


Dough & Joe

by Ignisentis



Series: Life on Old Bakery Street [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Blow Jobs, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Dirty Talk, Embedded Images, Flirting, Flirting Via Dirty Talk, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Found Family, Friends With Benefits, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Alternating, Pining, Switching, They are both really soft for each other, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, bless their hearts, brief mentions of homophobia, but they're also idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignisentis/pseuds/Ignisentis
Summary: “Can I help you find something?” Nicky hears, not bothering to look up.“I’d like to pick up something for my Nonna,” he replies.“You must be Nicolò! I recognize your voice.”Nicky looks up, and the most gorgeous man he has ever seen in person is smiling widely at him from behind the counter, causing deep dimples to show through the scruff of his tightly cropped beard. He has freckles dotting his sharp cheekbones and his nose, his eyes are the glossiest, shining brown, his hair is a riot of stunning dark, tight curls, and all Nicky can do is stare at him and think OH.**On the first day of his summer break, Nicky gets a dreaded phone call about his beloved Nonna: she’s taken a fall in her favorite bakery in Malta and broken her hip. Nicky takes a sabbatical from his job as a professor and heads to Valletta to help with her recovery. He goes to the bakery to thank the owner, Joe, for helping his Nonna and finds himself instantly drawn to the man. The feeling is mutual, but both of them agree that since Nicky will only be in town for six months, it would be best if they kept things casual. After all, neither of them wants to get their heart broken when Nicky goes back home to Genoa.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Life on Old Bakery Street [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193384
Comments: 168
Kudos: 325
Collections: The Old Guard Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would not have been possible without some very special people helping me along the way, so in no particular order, my undying love and gratitude go to:
> 
> [Lucy_Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_Claire/pseuds/Lucy_Claire) for her invaluable assistance with Joe's backstory and for the sensitivity read to make sure I got it right. She was friendly and patient when I, a random Tumblr user she'd never interacted with, reached out and asked for help. I'm so glad I did because I gained a wonderful friend in the process! Thank you so much, my dear!
> 
> [Paperstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm) for her steady, constant support when I need reassurance for everything from word choice to the dreaded Summary. She's an incomparable beta and an even better friend, and she always makes me push myself to make my fics better. This wouldn't exist without her, and I'm endlessly grateful!
> 
> To my artist [eagle--two](https://eagle--two.tumblr.com/post/644576753301520384/art-for-dough-joe) for the stunning art! It's perfection, and I adore it! Thank you for being patient with me as I stressed and kept checking in! The art was more than worth the wait!!
> 
> Finally, to everyone else who helped make this happen, from the Mods of this challenge to the people on Discord who cheered me on and helped me sprint. It truly takes a village sometimes, and I'm happy you're part of mine!
> 
> ~~~~  
> A note about the "Brief Mentions of Homophobia" tag. This involves Joe's backstory, and I will make a note at the beginning of the chapter containing the backstory as Joe tells it and a description at the end of that chapter should anyone want to read that. It's not the focus of the fic by any means, but please protect yourselves as needed.

Joe al-Kaysani groans and slaps at his phone to shut off the alarm when it goes off at 4:00 Monday morning. He groans again when it goes off at 4:09. And again at 4:18 when he finally drags himself out of bed, rubbing at his eyes in a futile attempt to make them stay open. He thinks he should be used to this by now after more than a decade of living the life of a baker full-time, but somehow his body just never wants to be awake this early. 

It’s not like he hates being awake this early, he muses as he showers. He actually really _likes_ waking up before the rest of Valletta, when the streets are quiet and the old stones of the city have finally cooled after long hours soaking in the Maltese sun. He likes sitting on his couch in front of his flat’s wraparound bay window, eating some breakfast and sipping the coffee that brewed while he was showering, staring up at the bell tower of St. Augustine’s Cathedral across the street, dark against the darker night sky.

His favorite part about his early mornings, though, is after he finishes his coffee and breakfast and sets the dishes carefully in the sink, when he walks as quietly as he can across the cool tiled floor to stand at the bay windows and spends five minutes before heading down to his bakery just looking up at the stars. Joe smiles as they shine and twinkle, like they do every morning between 4:55 and 5:00.

He yawns again as he heads down from his flat to the alley behind the building. The bakery he owns is two floors below his flat. Along with the excellent location in Old Town, ironically on Old Bakery Street, that was a huge selling point when he was looking for locations to open his own place. He really can’t beat the commute.

The bakery is dark when Joe unlocks the back door, the low hum of refrigerators the only sound he can hear. He flicks on the lights in the back hallway and makes his way to the office, checking the phone to see if he has any messages. None, blessedly, which means he’s free to head to the kitchen and start prepping for the day.

He loses himself in the familiar routine of heating the ovens and wiping down the kitchen surfaces, pulling doughs from the fridge to form croissants and kaak warka and yoyos, taking orange blossom water from the shelf to make a batch of simple syrup, mixing powdered almonds with rose water for fillings, tasting the date paste to make sure it’s just right for the makroud. There are baguettes proving on a counter waiting to go into the oven, bowls of graybah and bachkoutou dough on the industrial mixers for when Booker arrives because they’re his favorite to bake.

Joe smiles when the man in question strolls into the kitchen a little before 7:30 and ruffles Joe’s hair, breathing in deeply with a rumbling, “mmm, smells _good_ in here, Joe.”

Joe huffs at his best friend and goes back to forming the kaak warka. “You say that every morning.”

“That’s because it’s true,” Booker counters, smiling as he goes to the front of the bakery to get his coffee machines prepped for the day and change the special on his chalkboard menu. It had been Booker’s idea to add the coffee bar portion of the bakery a little over a year after Joe opened the place. They’d been talking on the phone, and Joe had joked that he’d do it if Booker came to Malta to run it for him, and Booker had gone quiet.

“Do you mean that?” he’d asked, voice small, and Joe had felt his stomach clench. He’d known Booker and his wife were having problems, but he hadn’t realized they’d gotten that bad.

“You know I do,” Joe answered gently. “You’re welcome here any time.”

Booker had shown up seven months later, eyes red-rimmed from more than just a long flight and begging Joe not to ask any questions. Joe took him in and gave him a job at the bakery, and the next week the two of them had started planning out the coffee bar.

It’s been a little over three years since the coffee bar opened, and Joe has to admit that Booker is doing an amazing job with it. He serves so many different styles of coffee; Italian, French, Turkish, even American. They have regulars who come in specifically for coffee and a few bachkoutou to dip into it, people who may never have stopped by in the first place if not for the coffee. 

They’ve developed a reputation for amazing breads, sweets, and lunch sandwiches and just as amazing coffee, _the_ place to go in the old city when you’re in the mood for a delicious snack or cup of coffee or Joe’s favorite thing Booker serves: mint tea. 

Joe never thought five years ago when he took a chance and opened Dough & Joe that things would be going so well, that he’d be working with his best friend, that he’d have a flat above the bakery that he loved so much. That his life would be so perfect.

Well. _Almost_ perfect.

“How was your date Saturday night?” Booker asks, coming back into the kitchen with a cup of mint tea for Joe, pulling the bowl of bachkoutou dough off the mixer and grabbing a piping bag.

“Ugh,” Joe answers as he cuts the day’s baklava into pieces.

Booker laughs at him as he pipes the bachkoutou onto a baking sheet. “That bad, huh?”

“The guy barely stopped talking about himself long enough for me to get a word in edgewise, and then when the dinner was mercifully over and I tried to escape, he had the nerve to say ‘well, that was fun, when can we do it again?’”

Booker snorts. “What did you tell him?”

“I was so shocked I just said ‘no thanks,’ and walked away.”

Booker chuckles sympathetically as Joe sighs.

“Anyway,” Joe continues, “enough about my disastrous love life. Let’s move on to _your_ disastrous love life. Do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Actually, Nile and I went dancing.”

Joe blinks and puts down the knife he’s holding. “Nile, our fellow employee Nile?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Joe frowns and turns to look at Booker. “Are you two dating?” And if so, how the _hell_ did he miss that?!

“No, fuck! She’s like our sister, that would be weird. There was this new club she wanted to go to, but she didn’t know what it was like, so she asked me to come along in case the vibe was off.”

Joe opens his mouth to speak but Booker cuts him off before he can say anything. 

“And before you say anything —”

 _Fuck,_ Booker knows him so well.

“ — she said, and I quote, ‘I’d ask Joe but then all the cute boys will just flirt with him instead of me.’”

Joe rolls his eyes and goes back to cutting the baklava. “That was _one time_.” He can feel Booker staring at the back of his head, eyebrows raised. “Okay, three or four times. Whatever, did you guys have fun?”

“Nile did. Wasn’t really my sort of place. Mostly I stayed at the bar and nursed a club soda.”

“We are both too young for such shitty Saturday evenings.”

“Speak for yourself. The bartender was pretty, and we talked football for hours. She gave me her number, we’ve been texting.”

Joe rounds on Booker, holding his knife out pointedly. “Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that, you asshole!!”

Booker winks and laughs before telling Joe all about her.

On Mondays, Nile clocks in after her morning classes and right before the lunch rush, and Joe’s always glad to see her. It makes lunch service so much easier, and it means she can stay in the front of the bakery while he spends the afternoon prepping Tuesday’s food. She comes back when there aren’t any customers, and he teaches her the best way to flatten butter for the croissants, how to flavor the date paste for the makroud. She’s a fast learner and fun to be around, and Joe loves her like a sister.

Joe’s by himself in the kitchen kneading dough when he hears Nile and Booker exclaim, “Agnese!” He wipes the flour off his hands and comes out, the grin on his face matching the one on Nonna Agnese’s. She straightens her skirt before sitting down gingerly at the little table by the bakery’s open front-window shutters and pats the table across from her, her white hair curling wildly around her ears. Joe holds up a finger to say just a moment before going back to the kitchen to put the dough he was working on in an oiled bowl before covering it to prove.

Agnese hums when Joe sits down across from her and hums again when Booker sets down her usual espresso and a bachkoutou, “the last one,” according to Booker.

“ _Grazie_ , Sebastien,” she says before turning her attention back to Joe. “Now,” she starts, a twinkle in her watery blue eyes, “I believe you had a date on Saturday evening.”

Joe groans as she cackles. He ends up telling her everything anyway.

It’s almost closing time before Agnese decides she’s ready to leave for the day. She usually comes by in the morning, but her scopa group meets Monday mornings, so it’s the one day she’s here in the afternoon. Joe helps her out of her seat, using his arm to steady her until she gets a good grip on her cane.

“Are you all right, Agnese?” he asks, slightly concerned. She seems a little shaky today. “I can walk you home, it’s no trouble.”

“Bah,” she grumbles, letting go of his arm as she starts shuffling toward the door. “I’m fine, Yusuf, you worry too much. You’re worse than me, and I’m an old Italian woman.”

He smiles and rolls his eyes before turning around to go back to the kitchen and make sure everything’s set for tomorrow.

“Agnese!” Nile cries. Joe whips his head around in time to see Nonna Agnese falling toward the ground. He curses and tries to reach for her, but he’s too far away, and she’s falling, falling, almost in slow motion, and Joe can’t do anything to stop it. She hits the ground with a sickening crack, and suddenly everything is happening all at once.

Joe drops to his knees next to her on the ground, grabbing her hand and letting her squeeze his against the pain. She’s groaning, eyes wide with fear, so Joe reaches out his other hand and caresses her forehead. “Call 112!” he shouts back toward the others, and he hears Booker curse, rattling off the bakery’s address and pleading for the ambulance to come quick.

The EMTs arrive and Agnese fusses at them in between groans. She asks Joe to grab her purse as the EMTs load her onto the stretcher, and then she refuses to let go of Joe’s hand, so they let him ride in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

“It’s probably her hip,” one of the EMTs says as the siren blares above them. “We won’t know for sure until they do X-Rays, but considering the circumstances of her fall…” Joe swallows heavily and squeezes Agnese’s hand gently.

“Does she have any other family in the area?” the other EMT asks, and Joe shakes his head.

“I’m not her family, just a friend,” he tells them, regretting it immediately in case they force him to leave her side when they arrive.

The second EMT nods knowingly at him. “That’s fine. They’ll take her back to X-Ray as soon as we arrive. You can call someone if you need to while she’s there.”

“Her grandson,” Joe blurts out, watching as the first EMT pushes some pain meds into the IV in Agnese’s arm. “She talks about him all the time.”

“Hey,” the second EMT says, patting him gently on the leg. “She’s lucky to have you, and she’s going to be okay.”

Joe squeezes Agnese’s hand again as he nods his thanks, swallowing down the tightness in his throat and hoping the EMT is right.

***

Nicky DiGenova sighs as he wakes up, relishing the opportunity to wake when he pleases. The semester ended three days ago, and he turned in all his grades yesterday evening, so he’s earned the right to have a lie-in today. And tomorrow. And for the foreseeable future, if he’s being honest with himself. This is the first summer since he was hired at UniGe that he hasn’t had to teach a summer course, so he’s already decided he’s going to take full advantage of that fact. Ostensibly, he should be working on his book, but that can wait a week. Or three.

It’s after 10:00am when he finally drags himself out of bed, rolling out from under the sheets and stumbling over the clothes he’d left strewn about the floor last night. Not because he’d had a bedmate, much to his chagrin, but because he’d been so exhausted from all of the end of the semester shit that he’d peeled off his clothes in a haze and collapsed into bed. Whatever, they can wait till after his shower.

Showered and dressed, his room tidied, Nicky opens his fridge door to find something to eat for lunch, frowning when he realizes how empty it is. No better time to check out the new bistro that opened up down the street, he supposes.

He takes his time with lunch and has a nice walk around his neighborhood, debating whether or not to get some groceries while he’s out. He decides to pick up something pre-made for dinner and that’s it, still feeling exhausted from the end-of-the-semester push and not up for full meal planning and shopping and cooking just yet. 

It’s mid-afternoon by the time he gets back to his flat. He puts his groceries away and is contemplating a nap when his mobile buzzes in his back pocket. He frowns when he checks the number. It’s a Malta exchange, but the only person he knows in Malta is his Nonna, and her name would have popped up on the screen. He ends the call and slips his phone back in his pocket.

It starts buzzing again, same Malta number. He silences it again. When it buzzes in his hand for a third time in a row, same Malta number, Nicky starts to think maybe something is wrong. He scrambles to answer the call.

“ _Pronto_?”

“Ah, is this Nicolò Nizzuto?”

“Nicolò DiGenova, not Nizzuto. That’s my grandmother’s surname.”

“Nonna Agnese!”

“Yes? Please, what is this about?”

“Shit, I’m sorry! My name is Joe, I own the bakery your grandmother frequents.”

Nicky frowns, wracking his brain to remember if his Nonna ever mentioned a Joe. He knows there’s a Yusuf at the bakery, though. “She’s mentioned a Yusuf before?” he hedges.

“Yes! That’s me. She’s the only one who calls me Yusuf.”

“Ah.”

“Anyway, she had a fall in the bakery this afternoon. I’m at the hospital with her. She’s back in X-Ray now, but it looks like she’s broken her hip.”

“What?!” Nicky stands up straighter as a surge of adrenaline rushes through him. “Is she okay?!”

“They think she will need surgery,” Joe apologizes.

“Ah, _cazzo_!”

“Yeah. Listen, she’s in good spirits, though. She’s been bossing the doctors around and charming the pants off all the nurses.”

Nicky huffs a soft laugh. “That does sound like her.”

“I got your number from her mobile, I hope that was all right. I wanted you to have a way to reach someone to give you updates. And for her to know someone had filled you in. She talks about you all the time, you know. She’s very proud of you.”

Nicky blushes a little at that, thankful that this Joe can’t see him. He does know, and he always finds it a little embarrassing, but he loves his Nonna more than anyone in the world, so he bears it for her. From the care and concern in Joe’s voice, it’s clear he loves her, too, and Nicky is suddenly fiercely glad she has someone in Malta looking out for her.

“Thank you for being there, Joe. It makes me feel better knowing you’re with her.”

“Oh,” Joe says, and Nicky can practically hear the other man flushing through the phone. “Of course. It’s nothing, we love Agnese, of course we’ll help in any way we can.”

“Listen, I work at the Università di Genova, and our semester just ended for the summer. Let me talk to the head of my department. I think I’ll be able to come down for the summer, help with my Nonna’s recovery.”

“She’ll be so pleased to hear that.”

“I’ll let you know when I do. I can reach you at this number?”

“Yes, I’ll have my phone on me.”

“All right, I’ll let you know my plans when I figure them out. Thank you again, Joe, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Nicolò. I’ll text you when she gets out of X-Ray and we know more.”

Nicky stares down blindly at his phone after he says his goodbyes and hangs up, turning it over and over in his hand. Guilt washes over him before he can stop it. He should have been there, should have known she was getting frail and needed more care. It’s been...god, over two years since he’s visited her in person, though they speak on the phone or on Skype frequently. He knows his Nonna wouldn’t want him feeling this way, that she’s happy for him, proud of the life he’s built for himself in Genoa. Still. He decides he’s just going to let himself feel these feelings for a little while anyway.

He unlocks his phone ten minutes later and calls Andy, the head of the History department at UniGe and his best friend. He knows her wife, Quynh, just got back from a business trip today and normally he wouldn’t bother them, but needs must.

Andy picks up his second call with a frustrated, “ _what,_ Nicky?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, and you know I wouldn’t bother you unless it was important. My Nonna took a fall, and she broke her hip. I was going to spend the summer down there helping with her recovery but wanted to clear it by you first.”

“Oh, fuck, Nicky! Is she okay?”

“She’s probably going to need surgery, they think, but they don’t know for sure yet.”

“Okay, hold on, just…” Nicky hears the rasping sound of Andy putting her phone down on fabric, Quynh whispering worriedly in the background. Andy comes back on the line and continues, “can I call you back in ten minutes or so, Nicky? I need to check something and will have an answer for you then.”

“Of course.”

“Go ahead and start packing. If I can’t clear you for the whole summer I’ll at least be able to clear you for a good chunk of it.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Andy.”

“Of course. Fuck, poor Agnese. Okay, I’ll call you back.”

“All right. _Ciao._ ”

Nicky hangs up and starts pulling up flight information on his phone, cursing when all the flights for the next few days have long layovers at Leonardo da Vinci. He startles when his phone starts buzzing again, a little over 20 minutes later, Andy’s name and the ridiculous profile photo for her she doesn't know he saved flashing across his screen.

“ _Pronto_?”

“Okay, you are clear for the whole summer. I also talked to some of our colleagues, and they were more than happy to move some classes around and cover some of yours, so congratulations, you also have the Fall semester as a sabbatical. Use the time to help your Nonna and also work on your book, okay? Coordinate with your UniGe literary agent and editor, blah blah, but as long as you make some progress, it’ll be fine.”

“Andy,” Nicky chokes out, overwhelmed by the offer. “That is so generous, thank you so much!”

“Of course,” she says, and Nicky knows she’s waving her hand like it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing to him.

“Andy,” he starts, gently, but she cuts him off.

“Tell me when your flight leaves.”

“Ugh,” he gripes, “all of the flights out of Genoa the next two days have huge layovers in Rome; 9 hours at a minimum. And they all leave in the afternoon, so I could get a flight tomorrow afternoon and arrive in Malta the next day.”

“Hold on a second, don’t hang up.”

Nicky hears her put the phone down again, then more muffled conversation between her and Quynh before Quynh squeals excitedly and claps her hands. “Found one!” Quynh exclaims right before Andy picks up the phone again.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do: Quynh and I are going to come pick you up now, and then we’re going to drive you to Rome. It’s way cheaper and faster to fly out of Rome, so don’t argue with us on this. There’s a nonstop flight on Air Malta tomorrow morning that will get you there by mid-morning.”

“Andy! I can’t ask you to do that, Rome is a 5-hour drive! I can just take a train.”

“First of all, you didn’t ask, we offered. Second, Quynh is excited about a road trip, and you know I can’t say no to her.”

“ROAD TRIP!” Quynh shouts in the background.

“Third,” Andy continues, chuckling, “we won’t see you for months, now. Let us spend this time with you.”

Nicky sighs, knowing he’s going to say yes. Truthfully, it does sound nice, letting them help him with some of this sudden weight. 

“Lastly,” Andy finishes before Nicky can speak again, “Quynh already bought your plane ticket.”

“Andy!” Nicky admonishes.

“Nicky!” Andy counters in that sing-sing way she does when she knows he’s going to give in to whatever ludicrous plot she and Quynh have cooked up.

“Fine. But I’m paying for the gas.”

“Deal.”

“And the snacks.”

“Double deal. We’ll be over within the hour.”

“All right. Ask Quynh to please text me the flight information so I can let Joe know when I’ll be arriving.”

“Check your email, she sent the ticket there. One hour! Bye!”

Nicky sighs as she ends the call, plugging in his phone before he starts packing. He packs his clothes, laptop, and everything else he needs to work on his book. Toiletries he’ll just buy there, no sense packing a bunch of them for that long of a trip. He has enough time after all that to check his flight itinerary and send the pertinent information to Joe, who sends him a thumbs up and smiley emoji in return. Which...is cute? For some reason? Whatever, Nicky doesn’t feel like looking at it too closely right now. He can unpack that reaction later. Or never. Never also works.

The road trip is long but fun, the rest of his travel shorter but not as fun, and as he uses his copy of the key to his Nonna’s flat to open her door he sighs, weary but happy to finally be there. He sets his bags down out of the way and looks around the flat. It’s much the same as the last time he was there, if a little shabbier. The paint on the walls is starting to peel in some places, and there are little tears in some of the upholstery on the sofa and chairs. Fixing up the place a bit would be the perfect procrastination technique to avoid writing his book, so Nicky starts planning some of the things he can do in the coming months.

He pulls out his phone to text Joe that he’s arrived and is about to head over to the hospital. Joe has been amazing through this whole thing, patient and reassuring in his texts. He stayed with Nonna the entire day of her fall until the staff made him leave once visiting hours were over, and he paid one of his employees to sit with her this morning until Nicky arrived, which was incredibly generous of him. He also refused Nicky’s offer to pay him back, so he’s just going to have to find a more creative way to make it up to Joe. Perhaps buying a whole bunch of baked goods will do the trick.

Joe’s employee, Nile, is there when Nicky knocks gently on the door to his Nonna’s hospital room. She looks up from the book she’s reading aloud, and she’s beautiful, her dark skin glowing even under the harsh fluorescent hospital lighting Nicky knows makes him look sallow. 

“You must be Nicky,” she smiles up at him, her vowels all flat in that particularly American way. “I’m Nile. I know your Nonna from the bakery.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nile. Joe told me you would be here this morning. Thank you for sitting with my Nonna. I hope she didn’t cause you too much trouble,” he replies, a small smile on his face that widens when he hears his Nonna scoff at his words.

“Only the usual amounts of trouble,” Nile tells him conspiratorially, laughing when Agnese scoffs even louder.

“Nicolò, stop harassing the poor girl and come over here so I can look at you,” Nonna Agnese gripes through a smile. Nicky laughs and walks to the hospital bed, tugging on one of his small silver hoop earrings out of habit. It had taken his Nonna a long time to accept that he’d pierced his ears, though she never outright said she was disappointed about it, and he still hasn’t stopped the nervous habit of touching them when he visits her.

He leans down to carefully hug his Nonna. She reaches up to touch his hair when he pulls away, then swipes at his stubble before patting his face gently. “It’s so good to see you, but this hair! It’s getting so long, Nicolò! And when is the last time you shaved? You look like a scoundrel!”

Nile laughs as she picks up her messenger bag. “Guess some grandmother things are universal,” she jokes, waving goodbye to Agnese before leaving the room. 

Nicky pulls the chair Nile just vacated closer to the bed before sitting down with a sigh. He picks up his Nonna’s hand, the one without all the IVs, and traces his thumb back and forth over her thin, papery skin, every tendon catching his thumb in stark relief. “Oh, Nonna,” he sighs.

She reaches over and pats the back of his hand. “I’ll be all right, Nicolò. Better now that you’re here. Come. Tell me about yourself. Any new developments? Boyfriend? If not, one of the women in my scopa club, her nephew is gay, you should let me ask her for his telephone number.”

Nicky smiles and settles in, letting the sound of his Nonna’s voice calm him.

Her surgery the next day goes incredibly well, according to the doctor. She has to stay in the hospital for another week to make sure there aren’t complications, but they have her up and walking as soon as possible after the initial surgery. Nicky helps hold her up as she takes shuffling steps out of her hospital room and down the hallway, a little further each day.

Three days after the surgery, she’s begging Nicky to bring her back something from Joe’s bakery, “anything, Nicolò, please. The food here is killing me.”

Well. He can’t really argue with that. Besides, he could use a little fresh air himself after spending the last few days in the hospital, keeping his Nonna company. “All right, I’ll go. What’s the name of the place?”

No one’s behind the counter when Nicky enters Dough & Joe, but a little bell rings softly as he closes the door, so he figures someone will be there shortly. Whoever’s working is probably in the kitchen, which is fine. This gives him a chance to look around a bit, try and see if he can figure out why this is his Nonna’s favorite place. It’s small, like so many places are in the Old part of Valletta, but cozy. There’s a central window that looks out on the narrow street with two smaller windows flanking it, all of them able to be closed up by shutters painted the most wonderful lapis lazuli blue.

There’s a table and three chairs in front of the window, with two more small tables inside the bakery. The display case takes up most of the width of the shop, a coffee bar sticking out perpendicular into the seating area to make an L shape. It’s bright despite the lack of windows, the tall ceiling helping to make the place feel bigger than it is. There are shelves hung high up on the wall with potted plants spilling leaves down the stone walls, which are covered with sketches and paintings in a riot of colors and styles. It looks like some of them are for sale, and Nicky shelves that information, finally letting himself be distracted by the way the bakery _smells._

It’s everything and nothing like the bakeries he’s been in before, the smell of baking bread and sweets familiar but the spices and flavors not. His mouth starts watering, and he makes his way up to the display case to start looking at the pastries and breads and other treats the place has to offer. It looks like they even have sandwiches for lunch, too. Everything looks absolutely delectable, and if it tastes as good as it looks, he thinks he’ll understand why his Nonna comes here so often.

“Can I help you find something?” he hears, not bothering to look up.

“I’d like to pick up something for my Nonna,” he replies.

“You must be Nicolò! I recognize your voice.”

Nicky looks up, and the most gorgeous man he has ever seen in person is smiling widely at him from behind the counter, causing deep dimples to show through the scruff of his tightly cropped beard. He has freckles dotting his sharp cheekbones and his nose, fucking _freckles_ , his eyes are the glossiest, shining brown, his hair is a riot of stunning dark, tight curls, and all Nicky can do is stare at him and think _OH._


	2. Chapter 2

Joe’s humming softly to himself in the kitchen as he mixes dough for tomorrow’s pastries. Once the lunch rush passed, it’s been a slow afternoon, thankfully. He needed it after the chaos and stress of the last couple days. His thoughts circle around to Nonna Agnese again. He hopes she’s doing okay. He hasn’t seen her since her grandson arrived. Maybe he’ll stop by the hospital tomorrow, check in.

He puts the last of tomorrow’s dough in the fridge and goes out to the front of the store in case any customers come in, startling a bit when he sees there’s a man staring intently at the pastry case. He hadn’t even heard the bell when the man came in. Fuck, he needs to pull himself together.

“Can I help you find something?” Joe asks, smiling when the man frowns slightly but doesn’t stop looking at the pastries.

“I’d like to pick up something for my Nonna,” the man replies, and _shit_ , that voice! It’s lush and a little raspy, thickly accented in a way that makes Joe’s stomach swoop pleasantly. It’s also vaguely familiar, is the guy a repeat customer or is — oh! He knows where he’s heard that voice before!

“You must be Nicolò! I recognize your voice.”

The man — no, Nicolò, looks up, and Joe just barely manages to keep the smile on his face as his soul leaves his body and starts ascending, holy _fuck_. Something sharp zips through his belly when Nicolò’s stunning eyes widen and his perfect Cupid’s bow of a mouth opens in surprise. Because Nicolò? Is hot. Really, stupidly hot. His hair is long enough to brush his sharp jawline, enhanced by the stubble he’s growing. His shoulders are ridiculously broad, but the thing that’s driving Joe to distraction are the silver hoop earrings Nicolò has in each ear.

He’s also standing there gaping at Joe like his brain has gone offline, which makes Joe smile even wider because honestly? He’s pretty sure he’d say something really idiotic if he had to speak right now. Nicolò’s eyes widen even further when he _realizes_ he’s just been standing there staring at Joe, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to be able to do anything about it for a while yet. Fuck, that’s so adorable.

Joe takes pity on him and chuckles kindly, holding out his hand as he introduces himself. “Yusuf al-Kaysani, but you can call me Joe. This is my bakery.”

Nicolò shakes his head and rolls his eyes, smiling to show he’s doing it at himself and not at Joe. He takes Joe’s hand and shakes it. “Nicolò DiGenova, but you can call me Nicky.”

Joe half expects some sort of apology for Nicky’s gawping brain reboot, but instead they just smile at each other a little more, still holding each other’s hand, slowly shaking it. Joe decides to take a chance and see what happens. 

“Well, Nicky, I have to tell you,” he starts, begrudgingly letting go of Nicky’s hand. “Your Nonna talks about you all the time, but she neglected to say how handsome you are, so she and I are going to have to have a very serious discussion about that when she recovers.”

Nicky snorts as he laughs, and Joe beams at him because that? Is a really cute laugh.

“Get in line, Joe, because I would have visited more often if she’d bother to tell me how hot the bakery owner was.”

Joe shrugs up one shoulder and puts a hand to his chest in a bold, exaggerated move, tilting his eyes to the ceiling as he teases, “flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. DiGenova.” He smiles as he lowers his eyes to look at Nicky.

Nicky’s head is tilted slightly, his eyes soft, his mouth quirked into the barest of smiles. Joe feels his own smile dim a little as the mood in the bakery changes from bright and flirty to something soft and deeper. With Nicky looking at him like that, Joe suddenly understands how a pinned butterfly feels. It makes something ache behind his lungs.

“I’ll remember that,” Nicky says, so soft it could have been a whisper, and oh, Joe was wrong. He’s not the butterfly; Nicky’s words are, flitting around him, wisps of air caressing his skin with every beat of its wings. 

Barely one conversation with this man, and Joe’s unmoored. This could be very, very bad.

Or. 

Maybe it could be very, very good.

“You said you were here to pick something up for your Nonna?” Joe says, gently, needing to get back on solid ground.

Nicky blinks his big eyes a few times, nodding his head as he looks back at the pastries on display. “I don’t know what she likes, and they all look so good.”

“Why don’t I put something together for you? I know all her favorites, and then you can tell me what you want to try for yourself.”

Nicky looks back up at him and says, earnestly, “Thank you, Joe. That would be perfect.”

Joe smiles and feels himself blush a little, hiding it as he turns away to grab a pastry box and paper. He packs the box with Nonna Agnese’s favorites, heavy on the graybah, before asking Nicky to pick a few things. He says he’ll just poach his Nonna’s stash, but he adds a croissant “for breakfast” and a fruit tart “maybe also for breakfast, why not?’” and a few more pieces of baklava “definitely _not_ for breakfast.”

Joe waves him off when Nicky tries to pay. “Joe, no, you’ve already done so much.”

“It’s nothing, truly.”

“It’s not nothing to me,” Nicky tells him, voice dripping with sincerity, and Joe once again feels unmoored.

“Then it was my pleasure,” Joe tells him back, just as sincere.

“Please, I insist on doing _something_. If you won’t let me pay for these, then let me cook you dinner. I’m staying with my Nonna while I’m here, but she’ll be in the hospital a few days yet. Why don’t you come over tomorrow night?”

Oh, this man...this man could be dangerous. But when has Joe ever shied away from a little danger?

“I’d like that. Does 7:00 work for you?”

The hopeful look on Nicky’s face turns into a full-blown smile as he nods his head. “7:00 is perfect. I’ll text you the address.”

He holds up the box of pastries as thanks before turning toward the door, and Joe tries very hard not to watch his ass as he walks out of the bakery, but alas, Joe is only human and it is a _very_ nice ass.

Joe laughs at the saucy wink Nicky gives him when he turns back and catches Joe staring. Joe flaps his hand at Nicky, chuckling as he says, “Go! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Come hungry!” Nicky replies with another wink, before he’s out the door and onto the narrow street. Joe smiles to himself and goes back to the kitchen to start pulling ingredients for some experimental baklavas he suddenly has the urge to bake.

Joe’s already showered and deep conditioned his hair so every curl looks perfect and touchable. He’s changed his shirt three different times, finally settling on a plain black t-shirt that makes his arms look great. The jeans are tight but not too tight. There’s an entire box of fancy baklavas waiting on the counter that Joe’s excited for Nicky to try. He’d baked three different types after Nicky had shown interest in them, which, now that he’s thinking about it, is probably a bit excessive.

He’s nervous, in other words. And excited. He’s 99.9% sure this is a date. Okay, maybe 95% sure. He _likes_ Nicky, is the thing, even though he barely knows him, and it's been a long time since he’s felt such an instant connection and attraction with someone. He wants to get to know him, find out what he likes, what makes him do that cute little snorting laugh.

“Calm down, Yusuf,” he tells his reflection as he checks his hair one more time before grabbing a jacket and the baklava and heading out of his apartment. “It’s just dinner. That he’s cooking for you. In his Nonna’s flat.” Fuck, this is either going to be the best date of his life or an unmitigated disaster.

It’s a nice night for a walk, the early summer air warm but not humid. There’s a soft breeze, enough to make the thick black strings of Edison bulbs sway where they’re strung across the street. It makes them blink and twinkle, a bit like the stars overhead that their light blocks.

The flat is only a 10-minute walk from Joe’s flat above the bakery, which makes sense. Nonna Agnese is getting older, she wouldn’t want to walk that far for some baked goods, no matter how delicious they are. Which means Joe arrives a little early and has to make a decision: stand out on the street like a creep until it’s 7:00 or buzz Nicky early and risk looking overeager?

Just then, a group of drunken tourists tumble out of a bistro down the street, weaving their way slowly toward where Joe is standing on the sidewalk. Buzz Nicky early and risk looking overeager it is.

He presses the buzzer and waits, then presses it again when Nicky doesn’t answer, glancing at the tourists making their way ever closer, laughing and shoving at each other playfully. 

“ _Cazzo_ ,” he hears over the intercom, smiling since he’s reasonably sure Nicky didn’t mean for him to hear that. “Joe?”

“Yeah, hi, I’m here.”

“Come on in, it’s open!” Nicky tells him, and Joe pushes the door open when he hears the outside door buzz open. The entry area is small but well-lit and well-maintained. Nonna Agnese’s flat is on the ground floor, Nicky had explained in the text, easier for her to manage without having to take any steps. It’s toward the back of the building, so Joe heads down the hallway until he finds the right door. 

He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door to the flat, twisting the handle when he hears Nicky call from inside, “come in!”

“Hello!” Joe calls out as he comes in, closing the door behind him. He slips off his jacket and shoes when he sees a few other pairs sitting by the door, thankful that he decided to wear socks. Nonna Agnese’s floors are tiled like his, but she doesn’t have carpets to help keep the chill away. The flat’s walls are high and airy, with painted white stone walls and arched, vaulted ceilings. The main living space is one long, large room with the kitchen off to the right, creating an L shape. There’s a TV on a cabinet against one wall, a couch facing it with a chair to the other side. A small table with four chairs is behind the couch, making a little dining area. The two bedrooms and bathroom are off a little hallway to the left, it looks like. It’s a lovely little apartment, perfect for Agnese, if a little rundown and shabby in places. Could use a little freshening up, maybe.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Nicky calls out as Joe heads further into the flat. “Come on back! Sorry, I’m right in the middle of something with dinner or I’d come greet you properly.”

Joe suppresses a shiver at the thought of what a proper greeting could mean, his brain helpfully providing a very vivid glimpse of an enthusiastic kiss.

“I brought a little something,” Joe tells Nicky when he steps into the kitchen, holding up the box of baklava before setting it down on the counter. Nicky’s standing in front of the stove, furiously stirring something, barefoot, one of his Nonna’s aprons tied around his waist, white with little embroidered flowers on it. He looks perfectly lovely, and Joe’s heart thumps a little at the sight.

***

Nicky curses when he catches sight of the time on the little clock his Nonna keeps by her stove. He’s running a little behind, the sauce for his tortellini not reducing as quickly as he wants it to. The salad is already together, at least, just waiting to be dressed. The focaccia is out of the oven resting, the kitchen filled with the heavenly scent of rosemary and salt. The wine, a nice dry white, is on the counter, waiting for — _cazzo_ , the wine is on the counter not in the fridge chilling!

Nicky curses again, stirring his sauce before setting his spoon down on the ceramic fish spoon rest and putting the wine in the fridge. Maybe Joe will be running late and the wine will have more of a chance to chill?

Nicky curses again as the buzzer sounds just then, and he looks over at the clock. Of course Joe would be early. Nicky jinxed it by hoping he’d be late for the wine’s sake. He hurries to the intercom to buzz Joe in, swearing when he hits his bare foot against the wall in his haste. “Joe?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah, hi, I’m here.”

“Come on in, it’s open!” Nicky tells him, buzzing the outside door and unlocking his Nonna’s front door before hurrying back to the kitchen. The sauce is starting to look better now, at least. “Come in!” Nicky calls out when he hears Joe knock at the door, relieved when Joe does just that.

“Hello!”

“I’m in the kitchen! Come on back! Sorry, I’m right in the middle of something with dinner or I’d come greet you properly.”

“I brought a little something,” Nicky hears when Joe steps into the kitchen, the sound of a bakery box touching the counter not far behind. Nicky stirs his sauce and smiles, wiping his hands on the apron he found in a drawer before looking over at Joe. Joe, who is looking at Nicky’s apron and smiling widely. Nicky feels a spark of attraction zip up his spine. Fuck, but he hopes this evening goes well. He hasn’t felt this sort of instant attraction since...well, it’s been a while. More than a while. 

Joe looks so good in his black t-shirt and his tight jeans. Nicky isn’t sure if he wants to stare at his arms or his thighs or maybe his hair. Joe’s curls look so soft and touchable, and Nicky just wants to bury his fingers in them.

 _Cazzo_ , Nicky curses when he smells something acrid. The sauce!!!

Nicky turns back to the stove, picking up his spoon and stirring frantically, sighing internally when he realizes the sauce is fine. “What did you bring me?” he asks, turning his head to smile back at Joe.

“Baklava.”

“Joe,” Nicky whines, unable to help himself. He _loves_ baklava. He’d had it sometimes growing up, but Andy’s the one who introduced him to the variety of it, how deliciously different it could be depending on where it came from, and now the two of them share a love of the dessert.

Joe chuckles at him. “You seemed to like it before, at the bakery, so I may have gone a little overboard and made you a few different types.”

“Mmm, I could kiss you right now for that, you have no idea.”

Joe barks out a nervous laugh, overloud in the small kitchen. “Maybe taste them first. I’d hate for you to be disappointed and regret the kiss.”

Nicky looks back over at him. “I’m certain I would never regret a single kiss with you.” Joe flushes and ducks his head, shifting on his feet a little. Nicky tracks the movement and looks down at Joe’s feet, which are covered in green socks with little donuts on them, and Nicky is left to marvel at how this man can be so gorgeous and so adorable at the same time. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Joe asks.

“Why don’t you dress the salad and slice the focaccia while I’m finishing up the sauce and the pasta?”

“All right,” Joe says, getting to work. It’s nice having someone in the kitchen who knows their way around, Nicky finds. Joe whips up a quick vinaigrette before finding a bread knife, testing the weight of it in his hand before slicing the focaccia into triangles.

“Ooh, fancy,” Nicky teases when he sees Joe’s presentation.

“Did you bake this yourself?” he counters, and Nicky nods.

“Yes, Mr. Baker, I did.”

“It smells amazing! The texture and crumb look great, I can’t wait to try it.”

“Ooh, yes, talk dirty to me, Joe.”

“Excellent...rise,” Joe smirks. Nicky barks out a laugh as he tosses the pasta into the finally done sauce and plates it.

“Come on, let’s go eat already, I’m starving.”

The food is good, if Nicky does say so himself. Joe seems to be enjoying it, going by the little noises he’s been making periodically, causing heat to pool low in Nicky’s abdomen. He takes another sip of sadly not-chilled-enough wine and decides he’d really like to hear Joe make some of those noises in bed. 

The conversation flows easily between them, too, as they get to know each other a little better. Joe is sharp and witty, easy to laugh, and Nicky finds himself mesmerized by the sound of his voice. He feels like he could listen to Joe talk for hours and never tire of listening. Inevitably, though, the conversation turns to his Nonna.

“So, is your Nonna from Malta?” Joe asks before taking another sip of wine.

“No, she moved here once I started University. She took a holiday here once and fell in love with the place. She always wanted to move here, though. She used to talk about it all the time.”

“So she was around when you grew up?”

Nicky nods.

“Was it hard when your Nonna moved to Malta?” Joe continues.

“It was,” Nicky tells him truthfully. “I was...well. I was a bit scared, to tell you the truth. My Nonna raised me for a while, and as much as I wanted her to be happy, I was worried to be so far from her.”

“She raised you?”

Nicky nods again. “She took me in after my parents died.”

“Oh, Nicky,” Joe says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago now. There was a car accident, and…well, I was an oops baby, so —”

“An oops baby? What’s that?” Joe cuts in.

“I have three older brothers who were 20, 18, and 17 when I was born. So. Oops!”

Joe crosses his arms and frowns, and Nicky can’t help but feel charmed that he’s upset on his behalf. 

“It’s okay, Joe. Not planned isn’t the same as not wanted, and my parents always made sure I knew how much they loved me. In some ways, it was lovely. I had all their attention to myself. My brothers were more like uncles, really. They all had their own lives by the time I was old enough to understand who they were. I didn’t see them a lot.”

“Sounds a little lonely.”

“It was,” Nicky sighs. “I was shy as a child, had a hard time making friends. Most of the kids at school were indifferent toward me, and the kids in the neighborhood were either older like my brothers or younger than me. So I ended up by myself a lot of the time.

“My Nonna used to come over and watch me after school before my parents got home from work. She’s good at telling stories, so we would sit at the kitchen table together and she would knit and tell me a story while I had an afternoon snack. So it didn’t feel too different when she took me in. Apart from having to move and change schools, I suppose.” Nicky smiles, trying to seem nonchalant about what had actually been an incredibly difficult time in his life. As much as he likes Joe, he’s not ready to talk about all of that yet.

“Well, clearly it ended up working out for you,” Joe says with a smile, and Nicky feels relieved that Joe can already recognize when Nicky’s ready to back away from a topic of conversation.

“What about you?” Nicky asks, changing the subject. “Do you have your own Nonna Agnese?”

“I…” Joe trails away, his face falling as he turns his head.. This is very clearly not something Joe wants to talk about, and Nicky feels incredibly guilty for bringing it up, though he couldn’t have known not to.

“Hey,” he says gently, “how about we clear these dishes and you can show off that baklava you made for me?”

Joe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s nodding as he looks back at Nicky, a grateful smile barely visible on his lips. God, he’s so beautiful, even in his sorrow. Nicky has a fleeting wish that they’d met under different circumstances or a different time, one where they lived in the same place so they could try building a life together. 

“Come on, then,” he says, holding his hand out. Joe’s smile widens as he takes it and lets Nicky pull him to his feet.

They head into the kitchen. Nicky pulls a plate out of the cabinets for Joe to use, but Joe doesn’t even bother with it. Instead he holds the box out to Nicky as he starts explaining what’s inside. The baklava is all delicious, and Joe is so infectiously enthusiastic when talking about the subtle differences in the recipes that Nicky finds he really, really wants to kiss him. He’s in the middle of another wild gesticulation when he notices Nicky’s staring at him.

“What?” Joe asks, his dark eyes sparkling. “Do I have honey in my beard?”

Nicky gasps excitedly. “Does that happen a lot when you eat baklava?”

“More than you would think!” Joe chuckles.

“No, you don’t have any honey in your beard.”

“What then?”

“I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

“Oh,” Joe breathes. “Oh! Yes, please, let’s do that.”

Nicky smiles and bites at his lower lip. Joe’s gaze flicks down to track the movement, eyes darkening as Nicky steps into his space. God, but Nicky wants to wreck this man. He’d look beautiful spread out on Nicky’s sheets, loose-limbed after a good fuck. 

Nicky leans in, closing the gap between them. Joe’s lips are just as plush as they look, and when Nicky traces his tongue along their seam, they taste like pistachios and orange blossom. Joe sighs and parts his lips, so Nicky licks into his mouth to chase the taste.

“Wow,” Joe breathes when they finally separate, and Nicky has to agree. Joe is an incredible kisser.

They finish the bottle of wine but not the baklava. Joe made so much, and anyway, he insists that Nicky put some away for tomorrow or the next day when the flavors will have more time to develop. Nicky’s in the middle of telling Joe about some of his research when Joe starts yawning, which... _rude._ It’s only 10:00, and Joe was the one who asked about his work anyway! 

He must notice the look of annoyance on Nicky’s face because he winces slightly before holding up his hand to cover another yawn.

“I’m so sorry, I swear it’s not you. Just...baker’s hours, you know? I’m usually in bed by now,” he says sheepishly, failing to fight off a third yawn. 

Well, shit, now Nicky feels like an asshole for getting so annoyed. “Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

Joe flaps his hand at him and waves off his apology. “Don’t worry about it. I know it’s frustrating. The perils of being a baker. Most of my relationships have ended over this, actually.”

“Then they were fools.”

Joe smiles and ducks his head, shaking it a little as he looks back up. He’s bitten his lip, and it looks red and plush and oh, so kissable. 

“Do you need to get going, then?” Nicky asks him instead.

“Yeah, I probably should,” Joe says but doesn’t make any move to get up.

“Listen, Joe,” Nicky starts, grimacing at the look Joe gets on his face at his words.

“Oh, no, that’s never a good sign,” Joe winces.

“Shit, that’s not — can I start over? Please?”

“Okay,” Joe hedges.

Nicky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and decides to lay it all out there. “I had a really nice time tonight. _Really_ nice. And if this was a traditional first date, I would be holding my breath and hoping you’d agree to a second. But I’m only going to be here until December, and then I’m going back to Genoa. I don’t think it would be fair to either of us to start something serious.”

Joe looks disappointed, but he nods his head as Nicky speaks. “Okay, that, uh. That’s understandable.”

“I like you a lot, Joe. More than I’ve liked anyone in quite a long time, frankly. So what if we just spend some time together, have some food, do some touristy things or something…” he trails off, hoping Joe understands what he’s trying to say.

From the smirk on Joe’s face, he does. “Fuck?”

Nicky shrugs a little and smiles back. “I would like to, if you’re open to that. You’re incredibly attractive, you have to know that.”

“So friends with benefits, is what you’re saying,” Joe clarifies. 

Nicky nods.

Joe tilts his head and hums, giving Nicky a once over that goes straight to his groin. “On one condition,” Joe finally says, breaking the tension.

Nicky huffs out a laugh and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And what would that be?”

“We meet at my place. There’s no way I’m fucking in your Nonna’s flat.”

Nicky throws his head back as he laughs, snorting a little, to Joe’s apparent amusement. “Deal,” he says when he’s able to talk again.

“Deal,” Joe echoes. “Are you free Saturday? Sunday is my day off. The bakery is usually pretty slow, so Booker or Nile usually handle things for me.”

“So Saturday nights you can stay up later.”

“Or go to bed earlier, if someone makes me the right kind of offer,” Joe flirts, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Nicky purrs back.

Joe laughs as he stands up, covering his mouth as he yawns. “Thanks for dinner and a very pleasant evening. And hopefully an even more pleasant arrangement to look forward to.”

Nicky chuckles. “You’re very welcome.” He stands up and walks Joe to the door, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Mmm,” Joe hums, leaning in for another kiss. This one isn’t so chaste. Joe nips at Nicky’s lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. Nicky deepens the kiss, licking into Joe’s mouth. Joe lets him as he reaches out, grabbing Nicky’s hip to pull him closer. Nicky feels his dick twitch in his jeans, his body singing with arousal. He groans as he breaks the kiss and steps back reluctantly. _Very_ reluctantly. Joe is an _incredibly_ good kisser.

“Any more of that and we’ll end up defiling my Nonna’s flat.”

Joe laughs and runs his hand down Nicky’s arm. “Well, we don’t want that. I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Please do. Goodnight, Joe.”

“Night, Nicky.”

Nicky stands at the front door of the flat building, watching Joe walk away. He turns around and waves cheekily before turning the corner and walking out of sight. Nicky smiles and shakes his head, though he knows Joe can’t see it. He heads back into his Nonna’s flat and locks the door behind him, feeling happier and lighter than he has in months.


	3. Chapter 3

Joe is brushing his teeth when the buzzer to his flat sounds. He spits and rinses his mouth out quickly, checking his hair in the mirror once more. It’s sufficiently fluffy and looks really touchable. Perfect. He rushes over to the intercom and tells Nicky he’ll be down in a minute. He lets go of the button before Nicky can finish saying “okay.” He grabs his keys, wallet, and binoculars from the little table near the door and heads down to the street.

Joe’s...well, he isn’t nervous per se, but he’s definitely feeling a little _something._ He’s been looking forward to their Saturday probably-not-a-date-but-maybe-could-be-a-date since they agreed to get together a few days ago. They’ve been texting back and forth, which Joe has found himself enjoying immensely. Nicky is funny and quick-witted, and really fun to flirt with. He’s going to be amazing to fall into bed with, Joe can tell. But more than that, Joe finds himself wanting to spend time with Nicky. And not just in bed like they agreed. Besides, “not serious” doesn’t have to _only_ mean sex, right? 

Nicky is smiling at something on his phone when Joe steps out of his building, so Joe walks over and takes a peek over his shoulder. Nicky tilts the phone so Joe can see better as he explains, “it’s a sloth that likes to visit other animals at the aquarium. Look, the dolphins love him!”

Joe watches as the dolphins swim over to the tank’s glass, and it sure looks like they’re doing that dolphin smile thing. “Aww!” Joe gushes when the dolphins flip upside down to match the sloth.

“Cute, no?” Nicky beams.

“Not as cute as you,” Joe replies, leaning over a bit to kiss Nicky’s cheek.

“Ooh, that was smooth, Joe,” Nicky laughs, turning his head to try and kiss Joe properly, but Joe’s laughing, too, so it’s all kind of a mess. “Shall we?” Nicky asks when they regain their composure, nodding his head up toward Joe’s flat.

“Oh, uh, yeah, we can,” Joe says, trying to hide the small swoop of disappointment that rushes through his stomach. “I thought maybe we could hang out a bit first, grab some food, go do something a little dumb.”

“Joe…”

“You said ‘not serious,’ Nicky. Did that mean only sex and not spending any other time together? Because I like you, and I like spending time with you, but if that’s not on the table I’d rather know now.” _Please let it be on the table_ , Joe thinks.

“No, that’s…” Nicky huffs as he trails off, looking away as he runs a hand through his hair. It looks like he’s trying to make a decision, and Joe doesn’t want to push him, so he waits patiently as Nicky collects his thoughts. “You’re right, ‘not serious’ can be hanging out. What did you have in mind for tonight? I believe I was promised something a little dumb.” 

He’s smiling mischievously now, so Joe answers with a devilish smile of his own. He holds up the binoculars he brought down from his flat. “I thought we could grab some sandwiches from a place around the corner and then walk to a park nearby with a view of the marina where the rich people keep their boats so we can judge the boat names.”

Nicky’s smile widens, the right side pulling lower than the left in the most charming way. He makes grabby hands for the binoculars, and Joe hands them over with a chuckle. 

“Yes, let’s definitely do that. Lead the way, Joe.”

The sandwich place is busy, so they take turns making up salacious details about the other people in the shop while they wait, leaning close to whisper into each other’s ears so no one overhears them. Nicky has a truly filthy mind when he gets going, and Joe cannot _wait_ to hear it directed at him in bed later. By the time they leave the shop with their sandwiches, Joe’s feeling nicely aroused. Not enough to get hard and cause a scene but enough to get his blood racing a bit. 

It’s nice, he thinks, knowing what to expect from the evening and not having to worry about whether Nicky likes him or doesn’t, whether he wants to take it slow, whether he’ll decide he doesn’t want to see Joe again. Nicky’s into him, he wants to hang out and have fun together and fuck. Joe can do that. Joe can _definitely_ do that.

They’ve got about an hour of daylight left when they get to the park, so they find a spot with a good view of the marina and settle in. Nicky still has the binoculars, and he takes a huge bite of his sandwich as he raises them up to his eyes. Joe’s trying not to stare, but holy shit, his mouth is _big,_ and now Joe’s getting a little hard thinking about having his dick in there instead.

“Okay, I found one,” Nicky says, or at least that’s what Joe thinks Nicky says since he’s talking around his food and it comes out all garbled.

“Gross,” Joe gripes, pushing at Nicky’s shoulder with the hand not holding his own sandwich. Nicky just smirks at him in response.

“ _Zombies Can’t Swim_ ,” Nicky tells him after finally swallowing his food.

“Hmm. 7/10. Cute but based on zombie-movie stereotypes that could be wrong.”

“We’ll have to wait for the inevitable zombie apocalypse to find out for sure.”

“10/10 for the zombies when they take over the ship and pilot it out of the marina to start a lucrative zombie pirate business.”

Nicky snorts and hands Joe the binoculars. “Your turn.”

“ _Titanic II_.”

“No!”

“Afraid so.”

“Where?” Nicky asks, so Joe hands him the binoculars back and points out the boat.

“0/10, I feel like that’s just asking for trouble.”

“I agree. Though I guess if you have that much money you don’t really care if your expensive boat sinks. You can just get another one.”

“I revise my rating to a -8/10 due to capitalist assholery. Okay,” Nicky says after a long pause. “I’ve got another one. It’s called _Uh-Oh!_ But the name is printed upside down like you’re supposed to read it after the boat has already capsized.”

“Oh, that is clever! I like that. 10/10 for having a sense of humor and for finding someone to paint the name on upside down.”

“I agree. If I ever have a boat, I would consider that name myself.”

“Okay, I’ve got another one, I think. Ugh, _She Got The House._ ”

“That feels vaguely misogynistic somehow?”

“And boring.”

“Another 0/10.”

“Let me find a better one — oh, no.”

“What? You have to tell me now! Joe, tell me!” Nicky pleads, laughing as he bumps Joe’s shoulder with his own.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you: _Bass 2 Mouth_ , with the number 2 and everything.”

Joe laughs as Nicky gasps and covers his mouth with his hands. “I cannot believe,” Nicky starts, hands still covering his mouth, “that someone would pay hundreds of thousand of dollars for a luxury boat and then name it _Bass 2 Mouth_!”

“I mean, it is a pretty good pun.”

“For a fishing boat! Not a yacht!”

“I give it a 15/10 for audacity.”

“I’ll say 10/10 because rimming is fun but -5/10 because ass to mouth sounds unhygienic.”

“That is literally what rimming is!”

“I know, but rimming doesn’t _sound_ unhygienic, Joe, that’s the difference.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Joe laughs, hoping Nicky takes it in the affectionate way he means it. Judging from the mischievous smirk Nicky levels at him, he does.

“Oh, so I suppose that means you _don’t_ ever want me to rim you.”

“Whoa whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Nicky snorts as he laughs, which is still the cutest thing Joe’s ever heard. It makes him feel warm and fond in a way he very purposefully decides not to examine too closely. He does, however, laugh and hand over the binoculars when Nicky makes grabby hands for them. 

Sunset is rapidly approaching, so they spend the rest of the daylight flirting and finding ridiculous boat names to rate: _Ship Happens_ (9/10), _Pier Pressure_ (8/10), _Seas the Day_ (8/10), and _The Codfather_ (12/10 for the added visual of a cartoon mafioso fish) are their favorites.

Nicky sighs and puts the binoculars in his lap once it’s too dark to see through them. He closes his eyes for a moment, a sweet little smile on his lovely lips that Joe can’t help but stare at. Nicky’s top lip is the loveliest little Cupid’s Bow, and Joe wants to nip at it a little to see if it would make Nicky gasp. Joe looks up when Nicky’s smile turns into a smirk. Busted.

Joe quirks his eyebrow up and shrugs his shoulder because he’s not really sorry Nicky caught him staring at his lips. And if the way Nicky reaches out to grasp Joe’s shirt to pull him in for a kiss, Nicky isn’t either. The kiss is good, the second even better, but the third is the best because Nicky opens his mouth and lets Joe lick inside. He doesn’t know how long they sit there kissing, and it feels so good, so right, that he doesn’t care. Being with Nicky, kissing Nicky, makes Joe feel lit up inside in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

“Come home with me,” Joe breathes when they finally break apart.

“Yeah. Yes,” Nicky breathes back before leaning in for another kiss. “I want that, Joe, I want _you,_ ” Nicky tells him, and oh, it feels _so good_ to be wanted by someone like Nicky. Joe stands and pulls Nicky to his feet. He shivers when Nicky slips his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and lets the spark of arousal that’s been dancing under the surface of his skin all evening catch and take flame. Nicky moves his hand to Joe’s hip halfway through the walk home, squeezing it roughly before slipping up under Joe’s shirt to trail his fingers along the skin above his waistband, and Joe can’t stand it, he has to get his mouth on Nicky’s.

Nicky startles a bit when Joe pushes him sideways suddenly, gasping as his back hits the rough stone wall of a building. Joe leans in to kiss him, but Nicky surges forward before he can, moaning softly as he presses their mouths together. Joe wraps one arm around Nicky’s waist and tangles the other in his hair, tugging it a little as it slides through his fingers. Nicky moans again as his hips jerk forward, letting Joe feel just how much Nicky wants him.

“You like that?” Joe asks, whis voice already thick with arousal. Nicky nods as he dips his head to mouth at the bolt of Joe’s jaw. 

“I want to get on my knees for you, Joe. I want to taste you, feel the weight of your cock on my tongue,” Nicky whispers into his ear. Joe grunts and snaps his hips forward as his dick twitches in his jeans and fills a little more.

“Then let’s get you home so I can give you what you want,” Joe tells him, cupping his face as he kisses Nicky once more before stepping back so Nicky can push away from the wall. They clasp hands and walk quickly back to Joe’s flat above the bakery.

By the time they make it to his door, he’s so turned on he can barely see straight. He fumbles with his keys, and Nicky presses himself against Joe’s back as he laughs lowly into Joe’s ear. He reaches around Joe and slides his hand down Joe’s abdomen, slowly, slowly.

“That’s not — hnn — not helping, Nicky,” Joe grits out.

“Open the door, Joe,” Nicky begs, the rough sound of his voice slithering down Joe’s spine to pool low in his abdomen.

Joe _finally_ fumbles the door open, stumbling a bit as Nicky pushes him into his apartment and up against the wall. Nicky is almost frantic as he kisses Joe hungrily and runs his fingers through Joe’s hair. Joe manages to reach out with his foot to kick the door shut just before Nicky drops to his knees with a loud _thunk._ Joe sucks in a breath and holds it, squeezing his eyes shut tight because if he looks at Nicky down on his knees for him, so desperate and needy, this is going to be over way faster than he wants it to be. 

Joe’s eyes fly open when Nicky lets out a pained grunt. “Are you okay?” he asks, reaching down to tilt Nicky’s face up so he can check in. Nicky nods, but he’s still grimacing, so clearly something’s wrong. “Nicolò?”

Nicky shudders at the use of his full name, and Joe files _that_ information away for later. He turns his head to press a kiss to Joe’s palm before saying, “I think your floor tiles are even harder than you are.”

“Oh, shit, your knees!” Joe reaches down to pull Nicky up by his armpits. “Are you okay?” he asks, brushing Nicky’s hair off his forehead.

“I’ll be fine. Just bruised, I think.” Nicky’s eyes light up and his smile turns devilish. “That’s not why I want to go limping home,” he tells Joe, quirking up an eyebrow.

Joe sputters and chokes as he tries not to laugh — Nicky is still in pain after all — but Nicky snorts out his own laugh, so Joe doesn’t bother holding back. They’re both still giggling as Joe kisses the bridge of Nicky’s nose.

“There’s a rug by the couch and by the bed,” Joe informs him, “your choice. If you still want to do this.”

“I _very_ much still want to do this. On a rug. My poor old knees can’t handle the tile,” Nicky pouts exaggeratedly.

“Yes, you’re practically ancient, look at you. Couch is closer, if you think your old-man back will tolerate the walk.”

Nicky chuckles as he pulls Joe over to the couch and shoves him down so Joe’s sitting, this time gracefully sinking to his knees. “Believe me,” he purrs as he undoes Joe’s jeans, “you’ll be a _very_ active participant when I get my back blown out.”

Joe hisses when Nicky pulls him out of his underwear, hard and leaking. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Nicky says as he slowly licks Joe’s cock from root to tip. “I’m an old man, remember?” He winks playfully at Joe before taking him into his mouth and sliding down, down, _down,_ holding Joe in his throat before slowly pulling back up. Joe groans and throws his head back against the couch, helpless against the wet heat of Nicky’s mouth. 

He lets Nicky settle into a rhythm, tucking his hands under his thighs to keep from grabbing Nicky’s hair and fucking up into his mouth. Nicky’s taking him shallower now but quicker, a hand wrapped around the base of Joe’s cock while his sinful mouth focuses on the head, just how Joe likes it. 

“Fuck, Nicky, just like that. You’re so clever, figuring out what I want,” Joe purrs. Nicky whines around his dick, high-pitched and needy, snapping his hips into the empty air in front of him. 

“You like that? Hearing how good you are?” Nicky looks up from between his legs and nods, his lips red and stretched wide around Joe’s cock. Joe reaches down to trace his thumb across the corner of Nicky’s mouth, letting his hand curl around to cradle the back of Nicky’s head. 

“You look so _good_ on my cock, Nicolò,” Joe praises. Nicky’s eyes flutter shut as he whines again and reaches down to grind the heel of his palm against his dick. Fuck, he’s so hard just from blowing Joe, the realization pushing Joe dangerously close to the edge.

“Touch yourself, Nicky. Let me see you.”

“Fuck, Joe,” Nicky grunts when he pulls off Joe’s cock to work open his jeans. He gets his hand into his pants, pushing them down just enough to pull his dick out and stroke it a few times. It’s long and thick and _gorgeous._

“Give me your hand,” Joe demands, pulling it up toward his face when Nicky does. He spits into Nicky’s palm, his dick twitching against his belly at the punched out sound Nicky makes. He swallows Joe’s cock down again as he starts stroking his own, fast and frantic, shiny with Joe’s spit. Watching him is making Joe feel a little wild, his arousal sharp and tight, low in his groin. Fuck, he wants to come, wants to empty himself into Nicky’s throat and watch him swallow it down.

“Nicky, ah, fuck, I’m gonna come,” Joe warns him in case Nicky wants to pull off, but Nicky just moans and sucks harder as he flicks his tongue, and Joe thrusts his hips up and comes, hard, into Nicky’s willing mouth.

Joe moans as Nicky works him through his orgasm, swallowing every drop of come and suckling on Joe’s cock as it starts to soften. Nicky’s making needy little sounds again, and if Joe hadn’t just come he’d be hard just from hearing them. Nicky lets Joe’s dick slip from his mouth and turns his head to suck a mark onto Joe’s inner thigh instead.

Joe hisses and threads his fingers into Nicky’s hair, gripping tight and pulling Nicky’s head up so he can look at him. “Fuck,” Nicky grunts as his hand speeds up on his dick.

“Look how hard you are, Nicky, just from sucking me. You gonna come?” Nicky whines and nods his head. “Yeah, I want you to. I want you to come with my taste in your mouth.”

“ _Ahhh,_ Joe!” Nicky shouts as he squeezes his eyes shut and comes into his hand. 

“Yeah, Nicky,” Joe praises, but judging from the blissed-out expression on his face, Nicky can’t hear him. He looks beautiful, so beautiful, and Joe has the fleeting thought that he would very happily spend the rest of his life putting that look on Nicky’s face. Instead he folds the thought up tight and tucks it away.

Nicky leans down to rest his head on Joe’s thigh, panting as he comes down from his orgasm. Joe runs his fingers through his hair as he waits for Nicky’s brain to come back online.

“Fuck,” Nicky sighs a few minutes later, looking around for something to wipe his hand with. Joe pulls off his shirt and tosses it gently at Nicky’s face. He laughs and cleans himself up before tucking himself back into his underwear and buttoning up his jeans.

“My sentiments exactly,” Joe tells him. Nicky groans a little when he stands up, rubbing at his kneecaps like they’re hurting him. Joe pats the couch next to him, and Nicky sighs in relief and sits down. Joe gets his own pants done up, and the two of them sit next to each other on the couch in companionable silence, both buzzing after good orgasms.

“That was really fucking good, Nicky,” Joe says a couple minutes later.

“Yes, likewise.”

“Yeah? I didn’t go too far or anything?”

Nicky shakes his head. “No, that was perfect.”

“Good.”

“I should probably get going,” Nicky says a few moments later.

Joe nods. “In a minute.”

“Yeah, okay,” Nicky agrees. “In a minute.”

***

There’s a buzzing under Nicky’s skin the entire walk back to his Nonna’s flat. He knew he was attracted to Joe — who wouldn’t be? The man is undeniably hot, and the way he’d talked to Nicky while he was blowing him...well, it was easily in his top ten sexual experiences. 

What he hasn’t expected was how well they’d get along outside of the sex. Joe’s idea to make fun of the boats down at the marina was surprisingly enjoyable. Maybe he’ll spend more time with Joe, explore the friends part of their friend with benefits relationship. Besides, it’s smart to know the people in his Nonna’s life. Joe clearly cares a great deal for her, as do his employees, and he’s incredibly grateful for that fact, but it does make Nicky feel a little guilty for not paying closer attention to his Nonna’s life in Malta. As he falls asleep, he resolves to do a better job of that. 

He feels happy and well-rested when he wakes the next morning, and if this is how he’s going to feel every morning after with Joe, he’ll make sure there are a _lot_ of fun evenings in his future. Nicky spends the morning and early afternoon prepping the flat for his Nonna to get home. She’s being released from the hospital to start the long recovery process later today. A nurse is coming by the flat tomorrow once his Nonna is back, to help her get settled in. The day after that, a physical therapist will come by to start the rehab program. 

Nicky’s looking forward to having her back home, and he knows she’s excited to be out of the hospital. She’s been going a little stir crazy having to be in the hospital and not allowed outside. The doctors and physical therapists in the hospital have encouraged her to walk around the hallways and the grounds, but there are only so many times a person can walk around the same courtyard before they long for their own home. Not to mention the food. If he has to listen to his Nonna complain about how the hospital food isn’t nearly as good as hers is he just may scream.

Three days after Nonna Agnese comes home from the hospital, she’s already begging Nicky to leave. “My darling Nicolò,” she says gently two hours after the physical therapist left, “I know you are only trying to help, and clearly you are taking my recovery very seriously, which I appreciate. But I cannot take your hovering for one moment longer. Please, can you go do something and let me nap in peace for a few hours?”

Nicky frowns and tries not to take it personally that she wants him to leave, and when she tells him she’s just not used to having someone in her space like this and it’s making her cranky, he gets it. He hasn’t had a roommate in years, ever since that disaster of an ex-boyfriend he lived with for two months in his mid-20s before their relationship ended in dramatic fashion. He’d probably feel crowded if someone suddenly had to live with him, too. And then paid incredibly close attention to every aspect of his health.

Hmm, maybe his Nonna has a point.

Nicky packs up his laptop and kisses his Nonna on the cheek, promising to be back later that day. She sighs in relief and lets Nicky help her get settled in her bed before he leaves the flat.

He feels like working on his book for the first time since he got to Malta weeks ago, but he’s not sure where he wants to go to write; he’s been so busy with his Nonna and then that one evening with Joe that he hasn’t looked around for a library or some other public place that would be conducive to writing. As he’s thinking, his feet end up carrying him to Dough & Joe without him realizing it. Well. He’s here now. Might as well take advantage.

Nile is behind the counter this afternoon, speaking with another employee. He’s tall and handsome, light brown hair slicked back away from his face. Nile smiles at him as he enters, but the other man just raises an eyebrow and gives him a once over.

“Nicky!” Nile exclaims, coming around the counter to give him a hug. They haven’t seen each other since the hospital, where they’d spent a few hours in quiet conversation one morning when her class got cancelled and Nile came to check on his Nonna. Nile is taking classes at the University of Malta, and she’d been excited to find out Nicky was an academic. She was clever and enthusiastic, and Nicky had enjoyed answering her questions.

“Ah, the infamous Nicky,” the other man says as he comes around the counter to join them. “I’m Booker.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Booker,” Nicky says, shaking the hand Booker offers him.

Joe comes out from the back of the bakery then, flour dusting his apron and forearms where he’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. He beams at Nicky when he sees him, and Nicky can’t help but smile back. Joe’s smile is truly infectious.

“Nicky, hey!” Joe says, eyes flicking to the leather messenger bag slung across Nicky’s torso. “Can we get you anything? Oh, how’s your Nonna? She’s been home a few days now, hasn’t she?”

Nicky chuckles and nods his head. “She has. She actually kicked me out of the flat. Said I was hovering too much. So I thought maybe I could come here and work on my book for a bit, if that’s okay?” He looks over to the open table in front of the window expectantly.

“Of course, yeah, please do,” Joe tells him, his eyes all crinkled up with his smile. God, he’s gorgeous. Nicky wants to kiss him so badly, but he doesn’t think they’re really there yet. Besides, he doesn’t feel comfortable doing that in front of Joe’s friends. “How about a cup of coffee and something to nibble on?”

“That would be nice,” Nicky admits. 

“Why don’t you tell Booker what you want to drink and I’ll pick something from the pastry case.”

Booker holds up his hand. “Don’t bother. You’re Italian, right?” He continues when Nicky nods in affirmation. “I know just the thing.”

“ _Grazie_ ,” Nicky says, smiling when Booker huffs out a laugh. Nicky digs his wallet out of his messenger bag and steps over to the counter to pay, but Joe just waves him off. 

“Joe,” Nicky chides, “please let me pay.”

“It’s my bakery, I can refuse all I want,” Joe informs him, smiling smugly as he hands over a plate with some delicious-looking nut cookies on it.

Nicky rolls his eyes but smiles so Joe knows he’s not actually annoyed. Besides, he’s just going to ask Nile to sneak the money he owes into the till anyway the second Joe turns his back. He takes his plate to the little table by the window and gets out his laptop and his notebook with some notes he’d been thinking about before he came to Malta. He’s not sure if he wants to add them to the chapter he’s currently working on or if they should be their own chapter.

Booker comes over a couple of minutes later and sets down an espresso that smells of hazelnut. Nicky picks up the cup and takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Booker, this smells incredible.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know when you want a refill.”

Nicky peeks around Booker to make sure Joe isn’t looking before holding out some money. “Can you make sure this gets into the till without Joe seeing?”

Booker snorts and palms the bill, and it seems to disappear before Nicky’s eyes. _That’s_ a neat trick.

“I will,” Booker promises him before going back over to the coffee bar.

The bakery ends up being the perfect place to write, and Nicky gets more done than he has in weeks. “Is it all right if I come back again sometime?” he asks Joe a few hours later as he helps Joe wipe down his table at closing time, over Joe’s protests. “This has been an incredibly productive day, and I’d love to keep the momentum going.”

“I’d like that,” Joe tells him honestly. “Maybe…” he starts before trailing off.

“Maybe?” Nicky prompts him.

“Maybe if you’re here for closing again, you could just come up for a bit after?”

“Yes,” Nicky breathes, arousal fluttering in his belly. He looks up and finds the bakery is empty, Nile and Booker nowhere to be found. He steps close to Joe and leans in to steal a kiss. Joe hums happily and wraps his long fingers around Nicky’s hips. His lips are a gorgeous dark pink when they finally pull apart. 

“Tomorrow?” Joe asks.

“Tomorrow,” Nicky confirms.

Two weeks pass that way, Nicky coming to the bakery in the afternoon to write after spending the morning with his Nonna. She seems happy with the arrangement too, which helps Nicky feel less guilty about spending so much time with Joe. He’s taken to helping Joe, Booker, and Nile close the place down before he and Joe spend the rest of the evening together. They’ve spent many enjoyable evenings trading blow jobs, which Joe is incredibly adept at, Nicky’s delighted to have learned. 

But what really makes Nicky’s body hum in arousal is watching Joe’s long, slender fingers slowly working Nicky’s cock over like he owns it, the most incredible filth spewing from his mouth. Just thinking about it gets Nicky harder faster than he has in years.

Sex isn’t the only thing they do, though. Joe seems content to take his time enjoying what they're doing together, and Nicky’s more than happy with that. Some nights they take long walks around Valletta as Joe explains its history, acting as a makeshift tour guide, answering the many, many questions Nicky asks him. Joe just laughs and teases Nicky about his historian brain, but he always answers anyway.

Other nights Nicky orders or cooks dinner for them and Joe asks him questions about his book, listening intently when Nicky spends half an hour ranting about the lack of focus on queer history and how excited he is about starting to remedy that: his book is an expansion on his thesis and is focusing on the queer history of Northern Italy between the fall of the Roman Empire and the Renaissance. Joe always gets the softest look on his face when Nicky finishes a rant, and then he asks yet another question, and off Nicky goes again. Nicky returns the favor by asking Joe about baking. Joe is so animated when he’s excited about a topic, and Nicky loves listening to him. 

They spent a few memorable hours one afternoon at the Fortifications Interpretation Centre, which takes them less than five minutes to walk to from Joe’s flat but Nicky had no idea was there. Joe takes the afternoon off so they can go since the museum’s summer hours are short. It’s a sort of military museum, housed in a refurbished warehouse abutting the old fortifications. Military history isn’t usually Nicky’s thing, but when he pulls the website up on his phone on the way there, it says the museum’s goal isn’t to glorify war, so he decides to give it a chance. Plus, the entry fee is only 2 Euros, so if it’s boring at least he won’t be out a lot of money.

“You must be Joe and Nicky?” he hears when they walk into the lobby, turning to see a middle-aged woman with a kind face coming toward them, hand extended. Joe takes it first and introduces himself before letting Nicky do the same. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she continues. “I’m Martina, I’ll be your tour guide today.”

“Tour guide?” Nicky asks, looking to Joe for confirmation.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that I arranged for a tour guide for us. I thought maybe you’d like that, to learn more about the history than just I could fill in,” Joe tells Nicky, a shy smile on his face. Nicky wants to thank him, but before he can say anything, Joe turns to Martina.

“Nicky’s a history professor in Genoa,” he brags, which makes Nicky’s stomach swoop. God, this man. Not only has he arranged a tour guide in a museum, which was already incredibly thoughtful, but he’s bragging about Nicky to boot. Nicky reaches out to clasp Joe’s shoulder so he can squeeze it, trying to say with that gesture what he finds he’s not able to say with his words. Joe looks over and beams at him, that gorgeous sunshine smile, so he must get the message.

“Oh, that’s so cool! What subject?” Martina asks. Right, Martina. Nicky had almost forgotten about her for a moment, he’d been so focused on Joe.

“The history of Northern Italy with a focus on queer studies,” Nicky replies.

“Oh, what a coincidence! My sister and her wife live in Turin!” Martina exclaims.

“Do they? And how do they like it there?” Nicky asks, following Martina when she gestures them to the first exhibit area as she answers. 

They spend a wonderful three hours at the Centre. Martina is an excellent guide. She’s incredibly knowledgeable and knows how to impart that information in an interesting and enjoyable way. She answers all of Nicky and Joe’s questions and adds in a lot of interesting anecdotes. Before the tour is even over, Nicky decides he’s going to write a letter to her supervisor singing her praises.

But the best part, the part that makes his stomach all bubbly like a teenager with a crush, is that Joe slots their hands together at the beginning of the tour and doesn’t let go of his hand the entire time. Not even once.


	4. Chapter 4

Joe thinks of an amazing idea for something to do with Nicky early one Thursday morning while he’s in the kitchen, frying up some bambalouni for the day. For some reason, people really want bambalouni on Thursdays, and they always sell out quickly. After years of working in a bakery, Joe’s learned not to question these sorts of things and to just go with it. The dough is simple enough to make and can rest overnight, and it’s not like frying is hard. It just takes some concentration so he doesn’t overcook them. 

So maybe his awesome date idea with Nicky is the exact wrong thing to be thinking about right now, _shit!_

A few over-fried bambalouni later, Joe starts fleshing out his date idea as he forms some croissants and sticks them in the oven, a task he could do in his sleep he’s done it so many times. He thinks he’ll need two days to really pull it together and gather all the supplies he needs. Two days will put their date on a Saturday, too, which is a bonus; Nicky can stay longer then.

Nicky’s clearly intrigued when he comes into the bakery that afternoon and Joe tells him he has a special surprise for him on Saturday, and to come dressed in something comfortable. He smirks and leans close to Joe to ask if he should instead wear something that won’t wrinkle since his clothes will end up on the floor anyway. Joe just laughs and tells him if he plays his cards right, he’ll find out. Nicky laughs and heads over to the table by the window to write, but Joe doesn’t think he gets much done: every time Joe looks over at him Nicky is staring out the window, his lips curled up into the tiniest smile.

He looks so lovely that Joe’s fingers itch for his sketchbook. Instead he plates a makroud fresh from the oven and sets it down on Nicky’s table, earning his favorite soft smile in thanks.

Joe spends the next two days after work going through the supplies in his house and running around to various shops to pick up the things he needs to augment them. He gets everything sorted by the time Saturday rolls around. Nicky isn’t due over until 7:00, so Joe has plenty of time to get everything set up before Nicky comes over and shower when the setup turns out to be more physically taxing than he expected.

Nicky buzzes up a little before 7:00, just as Joe’s putting a pizza in the oven. He’s trying out a new dough recipe and is excited to get Nicky’s opinion on it. 

“Joe,” Nicky says as he steps into Joe’s flat, “I overheard the dumbest conversation on the way to your…” Nicky trails off as he comes into the living space and sees what Joe’s set up.

All four of the chairs from Joe’s little dining table are set up perpendicular from the couch, to form a sort of T shape. The chairs are in pairs about four feet apart with their backs facing toward the center, with the seats facing away. There are blankets stretched across the chairs and onto the back of the couch, creating a sort of low, flat tent. The blankets, which reach down to the floor, are pulled taut and weighed down with books on the seats of the chairs. The inside is covered in plush throw blankets and pillows and a couple of the couch cushions. There are fairy lights strung up too, pinned to the blankets that make up the roof, casting a soft glow all around the inside of the tent.

Joe watches Nicky take it all in, the look on his face caught somewhere between amazement and confusion. “What is this?” he asks, turning toward Joe.

“It’s a blanket fort. My sisters and I used to build them when we were growing up. You said your brothers were much older than you, so I figured maybe you’d never done this before. It’s sort of a childhood rite of passage, it didn’t feel right that you’d never experienced it.”

Nicky looks between Joe and the blanket fort a few times and is silent for long enough that Joe starts to worry that he’s overstepped. 

“We can take it down if you don’t like it, I don’t mi — _oof!_ ”

Nicky cuts him off with a fierce kiss. “You’ll do no such thing, Joe. It’s perfect.”

“Okay,” Joe smiles, looking into the kitchen when the oven timer dings. “Oh, the pizza is done.”

“You made pizza?”

“Yes, and I want your opinion on the dough. I’m trying out a new recipe. Help me get it onto some plates and we can eat in the fort, since the couch and all my table chairs are currently in use and we don’t have anywhere else to sit.”

“That sounds more fun anyway. I’ve never eaten a meal in a blanket fort before,” Nicky says with a smile.

They grab plates full of pizza and a couple of beers and laughingly crawl their way into the tent. They end up sitting cross-legged as they eat, and Nicky tells Joe about the dumb conversation he overheard on the way to Joe’s flat. He makes the mistake of taking a sip of his beer just as Nicky comes to the part he’s most hilariously upset about, and his retelling is so funny that Joe ends up spitting out his beer when he starts laughing. Nicky freezes for a second as he looks at Joe, his eyes wide, before he throws his head back and bursts into the bright, open laugh he so rarely does but Joe adores. It never fails to make his whole chest warm when he can get Nicky to do it.

When the pizza is gone, Joe goes into the kitchen and grabs some snacks, more beers, and a deck of cards and brings them back into the blanket fort. He holds up the deck of cards. “I looked up the rules to some card games I’ve never played before. Want to learn with me?” he asks, hoping Nicky does.

Nicky nods and smiles a little wolfish smile Joe’s never seen before but makes his belly tighten in arousal. 

“You may regret this, Joe. I’m _very_ competitive.”

“Somehow I don’t think I will,” Joe snarks back.

Twenty minutes later, Joe’s starting to regret it. Oh, it’s not because Nicky is kicking his ass at cards, though that is mildly annoying. It’s that Nicky looks so unbelievably hot doing it that Joe’s been half-hard the entire time. He’s starting to wonder how long it’s going to take Nicky to notice that Joe’s not really thinking with his whole upstairs brain anymore.

“Do you have any 5s?” Joe asks, swallowing hard as Nicky stares him down over the top of his cards, his stunning wide eyes boring a hole straight through him. Joe holds his breath, the tension finally breaking when Nicky flicks his eyes down to look at his hand before looking back up to pin Joe in place with his gaze.

“Go fish,” he says, voice low and rough.

Joe squirms on his cushion and reaches into the pile of cards between them to pick one up. It’s a 7. Damn it, he doesn’t need a 7.

Nicky doesn’t even bother looking at his cards before he asks, “do you have any 7s?” like the asshole he is. He’s clearly either telepathic, cheating, or counting cards, but Joe can’t seem to work up the energy to care because either way it’s making him hard as hell. Joe’s always known he has a bit of a competency kink, but he didn’t think Nicky being so good at a damn kids’ card game would trigger it.

Well, two can play that game. “Fuck,” he whispers, dangling the 7 in front of him languidly, teasingly, close enough to his own body that Nicky has to lean over a little to take it from Joe’s hand. Nicky leans in close enough that Joe can see the fairy lights reflected in his blown pupils, and Joe’s dick twitches in his sweats. God, he wants to end this stupid card game already, maybe ride Nicky into oblivion, but he also doesn’t want to be the first one to break.

He’s practically panting when Nicky sits back and pulls out another 7 from his hand, setting them down on the ground in front of him. Shit, Nicky only has one card left in his hand. Joe looks down at the five cards currently in his. Maybe he should just let Nicky win already. His dick is certainly on board with the idea.

“Do you have any 10s?” Joe asks, voice thick with arousal.

Nicky shakes his head. “Go fish, Joe.”

Joe keeps his eyes on Nicky’s as he picks up a card and sets it in his hand without looking at it. Nicky’s nostrils flare and Joe watches him suppress a shiver. “Do you have any Kings?” Nicky asks, voice tight.

Joe doesn’t even bother to look at his cards as he shakes his head slowly, his eyes fixed on Nicky’s. Joe can barely make out any of the impossible blue-green of Nicky’s eyes around the black as Nicky growls and throws his cards to the ground. 

“Fucking _finally,_ ” Joe hisses as Nicky lunges across the blanket fort, pushing Joe onto his back before straddling him. 

“You _infuriating_ man,” Nicky growls again, rolling his hips once as he leans down to crash their mouths together. Joe moans when Nicky licks into his mouth, lush and wet. Joe spreads his legs so Nicky can slot in between them, rolling his own hips up to meet Nicky’s so he can feel how hard Nicky is for him.

Nicky pulls back, his plush lips kissed-red, and pushes himself up on his arms so he can look down at Joe. He grinds against Joe slowly, maintaining eye contact as he does. “We can keep going like this,” he tells Joe, punctuating his words with torturously slow hip motions.

“Or?” Joe asks breathlessly when Nicky doesn’t continue.

“Or I could fuck you, right here, on the floor of this blanket fort. If that’s something you’d want.”

Joe nods his head vigorously because fuck yes, that. He wants that. Nicky shifts so he’s kneeling, reaching down to hold Joe’s chin still with his distractingly thick fingers.

“I need verbal confirmation, Joe.”

“Fuuuuck,” Joe groans, closing his eyes against the liquid heat the manhandling and Nicky’s words send racing through his veins. He reaches out to grip Nicky by the hips, squeezing them as he looks up at Nicky. “That is absolutely something I want. I’m vers, I like getting fucked.”

“Oh, thank god. Me too, and I would have changed tactics and ridden you, but I really want to be inside you right now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Joe smirks, sliding his hands around Nicky’s waist to dip his fingers under the waistband of his sweats, trailing his fingers across the top of Nicky’s ass.

“We need condoms and lube, Joe. And do you need to...” Nicky sighs and trails off, tilting his hips back to get more of Joe’s hands on him. Joe obliges and slides his hands further into Nicky’s sweats so he can squeeze Nicky’s ass.

Joe shakes his head. "I showered before you got here." He squeezes Nicky's ass again for good measure. “Fuck, Nicky, your ass is incredible. Are you sure you don’t want to ride me? I could just stretch you out like this, watch your face as I slide my fingers inside you. I bet you’d look so good.”

“Ahh, _cazzo,_ Joe,” Nicky whines, twisting his hips around so Joe’s fingers slide closer to his hole. “Next time, I swear,” he says, hissing when Joe taps one finger there gently, unable to help himself. 

Nicky reaches back and grabs Joe’s wrists, forcing them up over Joe’s head and pinning them there. Heat pools low in Joe’s belly, and he writhes a little under Nicky, testing his hold, smirking when Nicky curses at him and holds him tighter. 

Fuck, Nicky looks good like this, pupils blown and breathless with arousal. He’s looking down at Joe like he wants to eat Joe alive, and Joe really, really wants to let him. 

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Nicky growls, his voice deep and rough like he’s just had his throat fucked, and Joe moans at the sound. “I’m going to let you up, and when I do, you’re going to get naked. Then you’re going to get the condoms and lube. Then, and only then, am I going to fuck you until the only name you can remember is mine.”

Joe keens and bucks up against Nicky, the friction on his aching cock good but not nearly enough. “Let me up, Nicky,” he begs, but Nicky just hums and leans down to suck and bite a mark onto Joe’s neck, soothing it with his tongue when Joe gasps. 

“Nicky, please,” Joe breathes, and Nicky finally lets go of his wrists. Joe scrambles out from under Nicky, pulling his shirt and sweats off before turning over and crawling to the corner of the blanket fort to retrieve the condoms and lube he stashed there before Nicky arrived, just in case.

Nicky groans behind him, so Joe looks back over his shoulder to see why. Nicky is naked, and he’s staring at Joe’s ass as he slowly strokes his long, thick dick. His other hand is up at his chest, twisting and pinching a nipple. God, he looks good, and Joe can’t help but reach down to palm his own dick, finding the tip wet. _Fuck,_ he almost never leaks like this, especially not before he’s getting fucked. It usually only happens right before he comes. The knowledge that he’s this far gone when Nicky’s barely even touched him makes him leak even more, his ass clenching with the desire to be filled.

“Nicky…”

“Give me the condoms and lube and get down on your hands and knees. Use the pillows to lean on if you want, but keep that ass up in the air, Joe.”

Joe whimpers and does as Nicky asks, handing over the supplies before piling up some pillows to lean down on. He settles his torso against the pillows, wrapping his arms around the pile to keep it stable and to give him something to hold onto. He has a feeling he’s going to need it. He spreads his thighs wide, arching his back. He feels open and exposed like this, vulnerable in a way he loves.

He smiles into the pillows when he hears Nicky cursing in rapid Italian behind him. “Look at you,” he coos, switching back to English. Joe shivers as Nicky trails his right hand down Joe’s flank, his left one holding onto Joe’s hip tightly. 

“You look so good like this, Joe, so needy for me.” Nicky’s dragging his hand slowly down Joe’s thigh now, sweeping down and then back up, a bit higher each time, closer and closer to the crease of his thigh. Joe tries to press back, tries to get Nicky to stop teasing and touch him where he wants it, but Nicky just squeezes his hip tighter and holds him in place. He’s going to have a bruise there tomorrow, and the thought of walking around with Nicky’s marks on him makes him groan.

“Yes, let me hear you,” Nicky says as he runs his hand up the inside of Joe’s thigh and finally traces his fingertips over Joe’s balls, turning his hand over to cup them in his palm. He drags his thumb up over Joe’s perineum and presses it onto his hole firmly, rubbing it around slowly.

Joe grunts and bucks back, shivering again when Nicky makes a tutting sound. “Patience, Joe,” he breathes, leaning down to press a kiss to Joe’s back. “Be good for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“What I want is for you to fuck me already,” Joe grits out.

“Hmm. Well, what _I_ want is to taste you first, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

Joe barely has time to comprehend what Nicky said before he feels Nicky sit back and part his cheeks. Joe moans at the first swipe of Nicky’s tongue across his hole, heat pooling in his groin as Nicky laps at him. He starts off slow, little kitten licks that leave Joe breathless, before increasing the pressure and lapping at Joe’s hole. Joe moans again when he feels Nicky’s tongue breach his body, and he rocks back to get more of Nicky inside him. 

Joe gives in to the sensation as Nicky alternates between long, hot licks across his hole and deep, probing thrusts inside. Joe feels sloppy and wet and open, and another time he’d be more than happy to let Nicky make him come like this, but tonight it’s not nearly enough. Tonight he needs Nicky inside of him.

“Nicky, please,” he begs. Nicky pulls back and runs a grounding hand down Joe’s thigh before reaching for the lube. Joe sighs when he hears the snick of the lid closing, wiggling a little in anticipation.

“I love how eager you are for me,” Nicky tells him as he brings his slick finger to Joe’s hole, rubbing it around the rim a little before pushing inside.

“Finally,” Joe sighs, and Nicky chuckles at him as he slides his finger in deeper. It feels so good, and Nicky clearly knows what he’s doing, sliding slowly in and out, giving Joe time to adjust, always making sure he’s ready for more. Joe jolts when Nicky grazes his prostate and clenches down on Nicky’s finger, cock twitching up into his belly.

“Sensitive?” Nicky asks, pulling his finger back a little.

“Yeah.”

“Too sensitive?”

Joe shakes his head. “No, just…” He trails off when he feels the tip of a slick second finger rest against his rim.

“Just?” Nicky prompts as he presses it inside. Joe hisses at the burning stretch and tries to focus. Nicky’s fingers are thick, and it’s been a while, but the fullness is just what he wanted. It’s intoxicating.

“Makes me need to come,” Joe manages to answer, “and I don’t want to do that just yet.”

“Ah, I understand,” Nicky says coyly. “You want to draw this out.”

“Yeah,” Joe sighs, pushing back against Nicky’s fingers. The burning has passed, leaving behind the stretch that Joe likes. Nicky’s slowly working him open, spreading his fingers when he thinks Joe can take it, pressing deeper and deeper. 

“Do you want a third?”

“No, I — I want your cock. Just go slow.” Joe’s had Nicky’s cock down his throat, he knows he’s big, so he’s thankful for the thorough prep, but he feels like he might burst if he doesn’t get Nicky inside him soon.

“I will, thank you for telling me.” Nicky leans down to kiss the dimples above Joe’s ass, and Joe barks out a laugh, startled. No one’s ever done that before. He can hear laughter in Nicky’s voice when he says, “they’re just too cute, I couldn’t help it.”

“You know what else would be cute?” Joe asks as Nicky finds and tears open a condom.

“What?”

“You getting inside me already.”

“Impatient,” Nicky tuts. “But you’re right, too.” Joe can hear the wet sounds of Nicky spreading lube over himself before he shuffles closer and rests the tip of his cock against Joe’s hole. “You still want this?” he checks one last time.

“Yeah, fuck, I really do. Give it to me, come on.”

“So good, Joe,” Nicky coos as he presses forward. Joe bears down against the hot pressure of Nicky’s thick cock, groaning when the head finally pops inside. Nicky stills as Joe breathes through it, and Joe can feel him trembling with the effort it’s taking not to move. 

“Okay, I — okay.”

Joe shivers as Nicky runs a hand down his flank, settling his hands on Joe’s waist as he slowly rolls his hips in a shallow thrust. Joe’s erection had flagged with the initial penetration, but he quickly hardens again as Nicky takes his time coring him open on his cock. Nicky finally works himself in all the way, twisting his hips around as he stays buried inside. Joe groans when Nicky’s cock slides across his prostate, once and then again. Fuck, he’s so full.

“You feel so good, Joe, so hot and tight,” and Joe shudders at how breathless Nicky sounds. Knowing that Nicky wants him just as badly as he wants Nicky sends tendrils of heat surging through his veins.

“Move, Nicky, please,” Joe begs. Nicky swears in relief and pulls back, thrusting gently back in. “Don’t — _ahh_ — don’t tease!”

Nicky pulls out until just the head is left inside and presses down on Joe’s back, forcing him to arch it more. “You’re going to lie there and take what I give you, Joe,” Nicky demands, thrusting back inside with one hard stroke.

“Oh, _fuck!_ ” Joe moans as his eyes roll back. The pace Nicky sets is languid, his thrusts long and even. It feels so good Joe’s toes are curling, but he wants faster, rougher, _more._ “Please,” he whimpers into the pillows. “Please.”

Nicky hums in approval and picks up his pace, fucking into Joe faster and harder. Joe’s moaning and grunting, little punched-out sounds he can’t stop himself from making. He can feel his orgasm building, heat pooling in his balls, the pressure almost unbearable.

“Fuck, Joe, your _ass_ ,” Nicky grunts. His thrusts are getting a little frantic now, almost desperate. Joe cries out when Nicky nails his prostate, and Joe reaches down to grab his cock.

“Yeah, touch yourself, Joe, make yourself come for me.”

“Ah, fuck, right there!” Joe shouts as Nicky hits his prostate again. His cock is leaking enough that it doesn’t matter that his hand is dry, it feels so fucking good.

Nicky’s cursing in Italian now, his grip on Joe’s hips almost painful as he pulls Joe back roughly with every thrust, the pressure building and building as Joe hurtles toward orgasm. 

“Ahh, Joe,” Nicky groans, “Joe,” and the sound of Nicky’s voice, the desperation, the want, is enough to send Joe over the edge. He comes into his hand with a throaty moan, pulsing over his fingers again and again as Nicky fucks him through it. He feels like he comes forever as Nicky keeps fucking him, grunting as Nicky chases his own pleasure.

Nicky grinds in deep and comes with a cry, collapsing over Joe’s back as he spills into the condom. He’s panting against Joe’s skin, peppering little kisses there between breaths when he can manage it. Joe groans and works the last bit of come from his softening dick. Thoroughly exhausted, he collapses onto the pillows and blanket under him. Nicky laughs and follows him down, wiggling a little to tease Joe, who whimpers at the sensation. Nicky kisses his back again before reaching down to hold onto the condom as he pulls out.

“Stay here,” Nicky says fondly. “I’ll go get a washcloth.”

“Like I can move right now anyway, fuck.”

Nicky chuckles and swats Joe’s ass lightly. “Next time,” Joe mutters, and Nicky laughs again as he crawls out of the blanket fort. Joe lets himself relax into the blanket beneath him, closing his eyes as he works on regulating his breathing. His ears are ringing like they always do after a really good orgasm, and that was a _really_ good orgasm, holy fuck. Joe was almost hoping to discover that he and Nicky weren’t very good in bed together because that would make it easier when he leaves in December. Not that it’s going to be easy now anyway.

Shit, this is _not_ what he wants or needs to be thinking about right now. Right now he needs to lie here and enjoy the fact that he’s feeling incredibly well-fucked.

Nicky crawls back into the blanket fort and makes his way to where Joe is, dropping a bottle of water over Joe’s shoulder. Joe grunts out a thanks while Nicky uses the washcloth to clean off some of the lube from Joe’s ass, handing the cloth up to him when he’s done. 

“For your hand,” he says, and Joe takes it and cleans off his hand. Nicky takes the washcloth back and heads back out of the fort to drop it back in the bathroom. Joe rolls over and sits up, opening his bottle of water to take a drink. Nicky hesitates at the entrance to the blanket fort when he comes back again, a soft, hopeful smile on his face.

“God, yeah, come here,” Joe tells him when he realizes Nicky is waiting for his permission to come in and cuddle. Joe holds out his hand, and Nicky smiles as he takes it. Nicky leans his head against some pillows and settles in on his back, pulling Joe down next to him. Joe sighs happily and curls up against him. He wraps his arm around Nicky’s waist and slots a leg in between his.

Nicky is warm and solid next to him, and Joe feels boneless and sated. Nicky starts humming, something low that Joe’s never heard before. He closes his eyes and lets the gentle melody lull him to sleep.

Joe wakes slowly, his eyes achy, his head dull and thick. It takes him a moment to realize he’s still in the blanket fort, curled up against Nicky’s side with his head pillowed on Nicky’s chest. Nicky is gently carding his fingers through Joe’s hair, and it feels soothing, like when he stands by the sea and the wind catches his curls. He hums and tries to shift, but Nicky shushes him gently and tightens his hold a bit, so Joe settles again. 

They haven’t done this, cuddle like this after. Maybe it’s because this is the first time they’ve done anything further than oral, or maybe it’s something else, like Nicky feeling smug about railing Joe into the next century. Either way, Joe decides to close his eyes and enjoy it. Nicky is strong by his side, his broad chest comfortable to lean on. The beat of Nicky’s heart echoes in Joe’s ears, matching the beat of his own. 

“How long was I out?” Joe asks eventually. 

“Not long,” Nicky tells him. “I hope this doesn’t disturb your sleep. Sometimes when I nap too late in the day I can’t get to sleep at night.”

“I’ll be all right. You wore me out.”

Nicky snorts. “I wasn’t far from dropping off myself, to tell you the truth.” Nicky’s admission sends a pang through Joe’s chest, and he wants that suddenly, so badly, to fall asleep next to Nicky and wake up next to him. On purpose this time. 

Joe hums and keeps his mouth shut instead. 

“Do you still do this when you visit your sisters? Build blanket forts?”

Joe tenses at the mention of his sisters and wracks his brain to remember when he mentioned them to Nicky in the first place. He almost never talks about them, and there’s no reason for Nicky to know about them unless — shit, wait, he told Nicky they all used to build blanket forts together. _Fuck,_ he’s getting more comfortable with Nicky than he realized if he casually mentioned his family like that without even realizing it.

Nicky moves his hand from Joe’s hair and drops it to his shoulder, squeezing it as he says, “hey, I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s…” Joe starts before trailing off again. 

Nicky doesn’t push him, which Joe is thankful for. He just squeezes Joe’s shoulder one more time before bringing it back to Joe’s hair. 

“Thank you,” Joe says into Nicky’s chest. Nicky just nods and leaves Joe to his thoughts.

“I should probably go,” Nicky says an indeterminate amount of time later. 

Joe closes his eyes and forces his breathing to stay deep and even. “Okay. In a minute.”

“In a minute,” Nicky agrees, as he cards his fingers through Joe’s hair. 

***

Nicky had really enjoyed Joe’s blanket fort, and not just because of the sex, though that certainly didn’t hurt. There was something really fun about huddling together under some blankets like that. Made it really easy to drown out the rest of the world and just focus on him and Joe. The next day, he’d texted Joe to tell him what a great evening he’d had and that he wouldn’t mind trying the blanket fort again.

Joe’s built blanket forts a handful of times over the past few weeks now, and it’s been fun every time. They play some sort of card game or board game together, they both get way too competitive — which is a massive turn-on, it turns out — and they end up fucking right there in the fort. After the third time, Nicky had dubbed it Fort Fuck, and Joe had laughed and drawn a little sign for the outside to surprise Nicky.

Nicky had laughed his ass off when he saw it. When he’d finally calmed down, Joe had looked so sweetly proud of himself that Nicky just had to kiss the look off his face. And then he had to push Joe down and ride him so he could put a completely different look there.

"Fort Fuck" by Eagle--Two

Things have been really great between him and his Nonna, too. She's made amazing progress the past few weeks. The physical therapy is helping so much, as are all the little walks they take throughout the day. Her range of motion isn’t where it used to be yet, but her stamina is returning well.

The first day she was well enough to walk to the bakery in the morning had been wonderful. It took almost three times as long to get there as it usually did, but Nicky didn’t mind. It’s not like he had anywhere to be anyway, and besides, it was worth some slow walking to see his Nonna so happy.

She’d asked Nicky to carry her special sitting pillow and her knitting bag while she held onto his arm and leaned on her cane as she walked. The urge to help her was strong, but his Nonna just swatted her hands at him when he was getting too overbearing. She never actually hit him, and it always made him roll his eyes and chuckle, taking the hint and backing off.

The bakery was empty when they arrived, no customers in sight, so Nonna paused just inside the door as she inhaled deeply, sighing happily at the delicious familiar scents. She was clutching one of Nicky’s hands for balance, so he squeezed it gently in support. She squeezed it back tightly as they stepped into the bakery.

Nile had gasped so loudly that Booker spilled the coffee he was making, swearing at her in French. Joe had come running out of the back room, flour dust trailing behind him, a concerned, “what happened? Are you all right?” bursting out of his mouth. Nile just pointed to the doorway, and Joe froze with the most adorable look on his face. Nonna let go of Nicky’s hand then and held open her arms. 

“Yusuf,” she said simply, and Joe hurried around the counter to come hug her tightly, flour-covered apron and all. She’d laughed and held him tightly, ruffling his hair when he finally let her go, a huge smile bright on his face. Nile and Booker came over for their hugs, too, and Joe stepped to the side, pressing himself against Nicky. Joe felt so good there, the warmth of his body a comforting line against Nicky’s side, and Nicky let himself wrap his arm around Joe’s waist, basking in his Nonna’s happiness to be back in the bakery.

They all fussed over her as she took her usual seat, with the addition of the special pillow to sit on. She’d laughed and let them before asking what was new in their lives. Joe had flicked his eyes to Nicky before he started talking, and Nicky shook his head a little. Joe’s smile had dimmed slightly, but he’d recovered and had started talking about some new recipes he wanted to try out and what did Nonna think about this flavor combination or those ingredients.

Nonna pulled out her knitting at one point, and some other customers had come in, so they’d all settled down to do their own thing. Nicky pulled out the book he was currently reading to see if he wanted to use it as a source for his own book, and the morning passed pleasantly enough. Nile and Booker kept shooting him pointed looks, though, ones he didn’t fully understand. They didn’t act any differently toward him, at least, were still their friendly selves. Maybe they’d tell him what was going on at some point.

After a week of looks from Booker and Nile with no further explanation, Nicky decides to take matters into his own hands. He waits until he and his Nonna are the only two people in the bakery and goes up to Nile, who’s working the counter by herself.

“Hey, Nicky, did you need something?” Nile asks him.

“Actually, I wanted to ask if everything is okay with you.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“Well, because you and Booker have been giving me weird looks all week, so I just wanted to make sure.”

“Have we?” Nile says, aiming for blissfully unaware but wildly missing the mark.

“Ah, so you have been giving me strange looks but you don’t want to talk about it,” Nicky guesses.

“Nicky —”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s not anything bad, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“All right.”

“How about I change the subject now and ask you something I keep meaning to ask Joe but always forget?”

“Yes, please,” Nile answers, her face relaxing in relief..

“Those drawings and paintings on the wall, the ones for sale: whose are they? Is it a mix of local artists Joe knows? It’s a neat idea. Joe gets interesting art on the walls and local artists can show their work, maybe make a few sales.”

“Oh, no,” Nile says, “that’s all Joe’s stuff.”

“It’s what?”

“Yeah, Joe does those. He puts new things up as pieces sell. I had to convince him to do it, actually. He’s really talented but shy about it for some reason.”

“He is. Talented, that is. I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah, go take a closer look.”

Nicky does. He walks around the bakery, looking closely at every drawing and painting. The drawings are all done in charcoal and are incredibly detailed. They’re mostly drawings of Valletta, little street corners or church towers, whatever happens to catch Joe’s eye. The paintings are a little more abstract, but they’re still stunning and full of riotous colors. And yet...there’s something sad about them, too, something that makes Nicky feel a pang of loneliness as he looks at them.

His Nonna raises an eyebrow at him when he sits down in a “do you want to talk about it?” sort of way, but Nicky finds he doesn’t, so he smiles gently and shakes his head. He ends up staring out the window, deep in thought instead, wondering about Joe’s paintings, and about why he’d never mentioned anything about them to Nicky.

The next few weeks pass in much the same way. Nicky and his Nonna walk to the bakery every morning and spend about an hour there. Slowly but surely her walking pace is getting better, so it’s taking less time to get there and back. They have lunch together back in the flat, sometimes taking sandwiches home from the bakery, and then she has physical therapy in the afternoon. Nicky goes back to the bakery to work on his book the days her physical therapist comes to the flat and stays there while she naps afterwards. Therapy always tires her out. 

On the days the therapist doesn’t come, Nicky helps his Nonna do the exercises, and they talk about whatever they feel like talking about that day; sometimes it’s stories from her life when she was a young woman, sometimes she asks questions about his book, and sometimes they talk about the shows they watch together in the evenings he doesn’t spend with Joe.

Joe is the one thing they don’t talk about, and Nicky’s not exactly sure why. He suspects his Nonna knows something’s going on between them. She’s clever and observant, and it’s not like he does the best job keeping his cool around Joe when they’re in the bakery. Joe just makes him feel warm all the time, and it’s not easy for him to suppress that. He knows it’s just a matter of time before she asks about Joe, and he’s honestly not sure what he’ll tell her when she does, so for now, he’s grateful that she hasn’t asked.

He’s preparing lunch one Tuesday after they get home from the bakery when his luck runs out.

“So, Nicolò, tell me about you and Yusuf.”

Nicky drops the knife he’s using to slice some tomatoes for their sandwiches, cursing and dancing out of the way as it clatters to the floor. Nonna tuts at him for the cursing as he washes off the knife in the sink. He definitely does not take an extra-long time making sure it’s clean so he doesn’t have to answer his Nonna. Nope, not at all.

“Nicolò,” she sighs.

“There’s nothing to tell, Nonna,” he promises, turning back to the cutting board to continue slicing the tomatoes. “We’re just good friends.” He finishes the sandwiches and carries them to the table. 

“Thank you, Nicolò, this looks delicious. And you know how I can tell this looks delicious?” She pauses for dramatic effect, but Nicky knows from experience that she doesn’t actually want him to answer. “I know this looks delicious because I am old, but I am not blind.”

Nicky sighs and takes a bite of his sandwich. He has a sinking feeling he knows where this is going.

“And because I am not blind,” she continues admonishing, “I can see that there is more than just friendship between you and Yusuf. So. Tell me about it.”

Nicky takes another bite and thinks about what to say while he’s chewing. He enjoys spending time with Joe, he really does. They just click, and Nicky always feels so calm, so safe, when he’s with Joe. And the sex. The sex is incredible, he has to admit. They click in bed as much as they do out of bed. Or, well, not technically in bed since they haven’t ever fucked in Joe’s bed. It’s always been on the couch or the floor or Fort Fuck, or that one incredibly memorable time when he’d walked through the door and Joe _had_ to have him, couldn’t even wait to get him to the couch, so he’d shoved Nicky down onto the kitchen table, eaten Nicky out until he screamed, and proceeded to fuck him so good he could barely stand after.

“Ah, I see,” his Nonna says, eyes twinkling when Nicky snaps out of his reverie and looks over at her. He’s not sure exactly what his own face is doing, but his Nonna looks smug as hell.

“It’s not like that!” Nicky insists, his face heating up as it flushes. “We’re just good friends!”

If he were a lesser man, one who didn’t know in his heart how much his Nonna loved him, he would be dead now from the look she levels at him.

“Okay, okay,” he admits, rolling his eyes at her, laughing at how easily she’s gotten him to talk after all. “We’re sleeping together.”

“You don’t say,” she deadpans.

"I can’t believe we’re talking about this,” Nicky groans, folding his arms on top of the table and burying his face in them.

“Oh, please,” Agnese says, flapping her hand at him. “You youngsters all think you invented sex.” 

Nicky groans, and his Nonna cackles at his discomfort. 

“Nicolò,” she continues, and Nicky sits up again at the serious tone of her voice. “I love you with all my heart. You’re a good boy, and there is nothing in this world I would not give you if you asked. But I love Yusuf, too. He's such a kind person, and he’s been so good to me. You two are beautiful together, and you both seem so happy. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt, that’s all.”

“Oh, Nonna,” Nicky sighs, reaching out to clasp her hand. A wave of fondness sweeps through him at her words, at her concern. He loves her so much, and for all that he wishes the reason was different, he’s so enjoyed having this time with her. But she’s wrong about this. He and Joe will be fine. “Nonna, it’s okay. We’re both adults, we both agreed to this. We know what we’re doing. We’ll be fine.”

She smiles sadly at him and reaches up to cup his cheek with her other hand. She doesn’t seem at all convinced. She’s wrong, Nicky assures himself. She is. He and Joe will be just fine.


	5. Chapter 5

As the heat of summer continues to soak into the old stones of Valletta, Joe starts taking Nicky on long walks around the city once Joe’s done at the bakery in the afternoon. The tourists have thinned out now that summer’s coming to a close, going back to school or their jobs or whatever they have waiting for them back home. Some days it feels like the streets are theirs alone as they wander together, slowly mapping the streets of the city on foot.

Nicky is especially talkative during those walks, Joe finds, and he loves listening to Nicky gush over some beautiful architecture they stumble upon, or rant about some particular person he’s researching for his book, or bitch about how often past historians suppressed queer history because it didn’t fit the personal narratives they wanted to tell. He always gets the most worked up about that, his gesticulating particularly wild and beautiful. 

Some days Nicky’s hair gets flattened by the humidity, and from sweat, and he’ll run his hands through it constantly as they walk, causing it to spike up wildly in random tufts. It looks ridiculous and perfect, and it always makes Joe’s heart swell fondly when it happens. His own hair tends to frizz when it’s humid, which it almost always is during the summer here. He often catches Nicky staring at his hands as he runs them through his hair, his eyes dark when Joe meets them. On those days Joe always takes the long way back to his flat, teasing Nicky by running his hands through his hair more and more, making him wait to get his own hands into it. It’s always worth it, though, because once they get inside, Nicky kisses him breathless before putting him down on his knees, his hands in Joe’s hair, guiding him as Nicky fucks Joe’s mouth with his gorgeous cock.

They decide to stop for ice cream on their walk today, Joe’s mint chip dripping down his wrist as he tries frantically to lick it up. He’s utterly distracted by Nicky’s tongue as he laps at his ice cream, and judging by the smirk on Nicky’s face, he knows it. Their hands are sticky by the time they finish their ice cream and Nicky threads his fingers between Joe’s to make him laugh. It’s a little disgusting. It’s also a little perfect.

“Is it weird? Not being in school?” Joe asks as they head nowhere in particular, sticky hands still clasped. Nicky doesn’t seem to care that their hands are still together, and Joe certainly isn’t going to bring it up. The first day of the fall semester at Nicky’s school was last week. Nicky hadn’t really indicated that anything was wrong, but it still had to be strange not being there.

“You know, it is a little,” Nicky says after a long pause. “I’m so used to prepping for classes in August and going to faculty meetings, spending more time with Andy and Quynh again, seeing the students start to come back to campus. I miss it. I wasn’t sure if I would, but I do. I miss Andy and Quynh most of all. We text and talk on FaceTime, but it’s not the same.”

“Yeah,” Joe says, his belly tight like it always is these days when he’s reminded that Nicky is going back to Genoa in December. 

“On the other hand,” Nicky continues, blessedly unaware of Joe’s minor internal crisis. “It feels a little bit like playing hooky, which is thrilling. And it’s nice to have so much time with Nonna.”

_ Only your Nonna?  _ Joe tries not to think, failing miserably. “Hey,” he says instead, desperate to get out of his own head. “How’s the latest chapter coming for your book?”

“Oh,  _ dio,  _ Joe, wait till you hear this.” Nicky pulls his hand from Joe’s as he launches into a tirade, gesticulating wildly with both arms. Joe misses the feel of Nicky’s palm against his, Nicky’s thick fingers slotted between his tapered ones. But the passion in Nicky’s voice, the delighted glimmer in his eyes, well, they almost make up for it. 

Joe sighs and puts the bookmark back in his book. He can’t concentrate on it tonight for some reason. Maybe it’s the late-summer heat. Whatever it is, it’s annoying. He thinks about taking a shower, maybe jerking off, but neither of those sound appealing, either. It’s only an hour until he usually starts getting ready for bed, so maybe he’ll just go to bed early. Or maybe he’ll just sit here on the couch and melt into it instead, see if he can become one with the cushions. 

There’s a sharp knock on his door, and Joe turns his head, frowning in suspicion. He didn’t order any food, and he’s not expecting anyone. The knock happens again, louder this time. 

Okay, so maybe he’ll deal with whoever’s at the door. 

The person knocks a third time as he’s making his way over, so he calls out a “okay, I’m coming!” annoyed that he had to move off his couch. 

“What?!” he snaps as he opens the door to find Nicky standing behind it. Nicky flinches a little when he pulls the door open, and Joe immediately feels guilty for snapping at him. Nicky looks like shit, or as much like shit as someone as handsome as him can look. His hair is a mess, and eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, like he’s been crying. The circles under his eyes are so dark they look almost like bruises. His shoulders are pulled in high enough Joe’s amazed they aren’t touching his ears. His hands are balled into such tight fists his knuckles are turning white. 

“Oh, fuck, Nicky, I didn’t know it was you! Come in, come in.” Nicky doesn’t move, and he’s barely making eye contact. Joe gets the feeling that he’s reassessing his decision to come over to see Joe, and he wants to give him space in case he’s changed his mind, but he also looks so angry and miserable that Joe doesn’t want him walking home by himself. 

“Hey,” Joe says softly as he reaches out to lay his hand gently on Nicky’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come in? We can build Fort Fuck, if you want.”

Nicky clenches his jaw as he looks up at Joe. There’s fire in his eyes, but it’s different from the kind Joe usually sees aimed at him. He wonders who it’s for and what they’ve done to deserve it. Because Nicky is so kind, Joe has no doubts whomever caused this  _ definitely _ deserves it. 

Nicky nods and unclenches his fists a little, coming into the flat when Joe steps aside. Joe heads over to the kitchen table and starts carrying over the chairs, Nicky following behind to help. 

“Can I fuck you?” Nicky asks once the Fort is halfway built. It’s the first thing he’s said since he got here. 

“Of course,” Joe tells him. “Why don’t you finish up here while I go grab lube and a condom, get cleaned up a bit?” Nicky nods, so Joe goes and does just that. He also fingers himself open a bit, just in case. He knows Nicky would never purposely hurt him, but he’s not his usual self tonight, so better just to be sure. 

“Joe,” Nicky grunts when Joe gets back to the fort and crawls inside. Nicky’s finished building it, and it’s not the best fort they’ve ever made, but it’ll get the job done. Nicky’s kneeling and touching himself, slow, loose strokes up and down his hard cock. 

Joe presses the lube into Nicky’s hand when he takes it off his cock and holds it out to Joe. “How do you want me?” Joe asks, ready to be what Nicky needs tonight. 

“On your back,” Nicky tells him, so Joe goes, leaning up on his elbows so he can watch as Nicky lubes up his fingers and presses one inside. He sighs in relief when he realizes Joe’s opened himself up some already and adds another finger, thrusting them in deep. He pumps them in and out a few times before pulling them back to Joe’s rim and resting the tip of a third finger there, a silent question. Joe moans, and Nicky leans down to swallow his cock as he presses three thick fingers back inside. 

When Joe’s ready, Nicky presses inside and fucks Joe hard and fast and deep, grunts of pleasure the only sound he makes. Joe closes his eyes and tilts his head back and takes it, moaning as Nicky chases his orgasm. It’s good, so good, like it always is. “I’m close,” Joe tells him, reaching down to stroke his cock, but Nicky gets there first, forming a tight fist for Joe to fuck up into. 

“Yeah, Joe, I want to see you come,” Nicky orders, and Joe groans and does, spilling onto his chest and belly. Nicky strokes him through it, wringing out the last of his orgasm before he grabs onto Joe’s legs and hoists them onto his shoulders, fucking Joe with abandon until he comes into the condom with a grunted sigh. 

Nicky grinds his hips a few times before slumping down onto Joe like his wires were just cut. Joe lets out a little oof sound, wiggling a bit to get Nicky more comfortably settled on top of him. Nicky presses the tip of his nose into the hollow of Joe’s throat, rubbing it up and down slowly, almost like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. Nicky’s breath hitches when Joe starts running his fingers through Nicky’s hair, but he tells Joe not to stop, so Joe doesn’t. 

They lay there for a little while as Nicky takes careful, measured breaths. He’s trying not to cry, and Joe wants desperately to ask him what’s wrong, to comfort him more than he is, but he’s not sure if Nicky wants that from him. Then again, he did come here in the first place. Even if he just needed the distraction of Joe’s body, he still turned to Joe. So maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if Joe offered more.

“Hey,” Joe whispers, “I’ll go get a washcloth for us, okay? I’ll be right back.” Nicky nods and sits up, frowning as he looks down at his body and sees Joe’s come on his torso, the condom still wrapped around his softened penis. “Here,” Joe says, holding out his hand, taking it from Nicky after he ties it off. He drops it into the waste bin in the bathroom and washes himself down before taking a washcloth back for Nicky.

Nicky is still in the same position he was when Joe left the fort. He gives Joe a sad, barely there smile when Joe comes back, and Joe’s heart clenches at how miserable Nicky looks. “Can I?” he asks Nicky, motioning to his chest with the cloth, and Nicky nods and lets Joe clean him. He’s watching Joe with an inscrutable look on his face when Joe finishes cleaning him, and Joe can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to Nicky’s forehead. Nicky closes his eyes at the contact as one tear winds its way down his cheek.

Joe brushes the tear away with his thumb. “Come on,” he tells Nicky, pulling him down to the floor of the fort and covering them with a blanket while Nicky snuggles up next to him. Nicky has his head on Joe’s chest and an arm around Joe’s waist, and he’s so, so warm.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if you want to, I’ll listen,” Joe tells him once they’re settled and comfortable. Nicky sighs and leans his face further into Joe’s chest.

“My brother called,” Nicky says after a pause long enough Joe was sure he wasn’t going to tell him. “Angelo. He called to check in on our Nonna, ostensibly, but he can’t resist the opportunity to remind me it’s my fault our parents are dead.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said they died in a car crash?”

“They did, but…” Nicky sighs as he trails off. “There was this old stone wall by our house growing up that my brothers used to like to climb, and they showed me one time when they were home for a visit. So I used to go there to climb, too. One day I fell, and I landed funny on my arm. It took forever to walk home since it hurt so bad, and my parents took one look at me and bundled me into the car to drive me to the hospital. They were scared and nervous, and I don’t really know what happened, except my mother shouted and the car veered off the road, down an embankment, and into a tree. My parents were both killed, and I was knocked unconscious. I woke up in the hospital. My brothers blamed me, and they’re not wrong. If I hadn’t fallen, they wouldn’t have been rushing to the hospital, and they’d still be alive.”

“What the fuck?!” Joe hisses, anger surging through him. He’s not a violent man, but he’s never wanted to meet someone so badly so he can punch them right in the teeth. “How dare they blame you for what happened! Nicky, your brothers are  _ wrong. _ Not only are they wrong, they’re horrible people for making you  _ ever _ believe it was your fault in the first place.”

“But —”

“No, Nicky. You were a child! And you fell. It was an accident. The crash was another accident. A terrible, horrible accident, but it was  _ not _ your fault!” Joe sits up a little so he can look Nicky in the eye when he says, “ _ please _ tell me you understand that.”

Nicky closes his eyes and sighs. He nods shakily, but he does nod. “ _ Sì _ , yes. I know. It’s just…”

“Your brain knows but your heart doesn’t always get the message,” Joe fills in for him, voice thick.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“What did he say? Angelo, what did he say when he called?”

Nicky sighs again and leans his face into Joe’s chest again. “He said our mother would have loved to come take care of Nonna while she recuperated.”

Joe curses under his breath in Arabic, and Nicky snorts. 

“It isn’t even that bad, what he said.”

“It’s bad enough.”

“He’s said worse. My other brothers have gotten over it and apologized for ever thinking it in the first place, but Angelo...I don’t know, it’s just been a while since we talked, and I thought I was getting better about not letting him get to me like this, but he said it, and I just saw red. I shouted at him and ended the call, and my Nonna asked what was wrong. All I had to do was tell her Angelo had called, and she knew right away what happened. She tried to help calm me down, but I just. All I could think about was getting here.”

Joe’s belly swoops and soars at Nicky’s admission, and he pulls Nicky closer. “I’m so glad you did,” Joe says as he presses a kiss into Nicky’s hair.

Nicky leans back into Joe’s chest, sighing as he slowly rubs his nose back and forth across Joe’s pec. It’s the most adorable thing, and Joe smiles as his heart swells. “I hate how much I let him get to me, Joe. I wish I could just cut him out of my life, but —”

“But he’s family,” Joe finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck him anyway, right in the ear.”

Nicky snorts as he starts laughing. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds painful!” Joe starts laughing too, and once they start, it takes them both a while to stop, the emotions of the evening making them giddy. Joe’s crying he’s laughing so hard, as is Nicky, and Joe’s stomach is starting to hurt. They’re both breathless by the time they start winding down, and the smile on Nicky’s face is so soft and so sweet that Joe just has to kiss him. So he does.

“Come on,” Joe says when they finally pull apart, breathless for an entirely different reason. Joe takes a deep breath to calm the nerves in his stomach that start going haywire whenever he thinks about Nicky staying the night. He’s wanted it to happen for weeks now, but he didn’t know if Nicky did, so he was hesitant to ask. Tonight, though. Tonight feels different. Tonight he feels like being brave. “Let’s go shower and go to bed.”

“Oh,  _ cazzo _ , Joe, you have work in the morning.”

Joe brushes the hair off Nicky’s forehead. “It’s fine. I’ll have some extra coffee, it’s not a big deal. It was worth it. More than.”

“You don’t have to go to even more trouble for me, Joe, I can head home.”

“I’d like you to stay, if you want to. I have to get up early, but you can sleep in. I’ll leave you my key to lock up, and you can drop it at the bakery on your way out,” Joe tells him in a carefully even voice.

“I don’t have anything to wear to sleep,” Nicky says softly.

“You can borrow something of mine, if you want,” and Joe violently ignores the white hot fizz that sparks up his spine at the thought of Nicky in his clothes.

“Spare toothbrush?” Nicky says, and when Joe looks at him, he’s smiling wider than he has all evening, the one that means he’s happy but still a little tender. Joe reaches out to trace the corner of it with his thumb and wonders when he got so good at reading Nicky’s smiles.

“In the bathroom, bottom left cabinet.”

“I'm going to smell like you,” Nicky whispers like it’s a confession.

“You will,” Joe whispers back, heart pounding at the thought.

“Good.”

Joe surges forward and kisses Nicky again, kisses his soft lips and his softer words, kisses them right out of his mouth so he can hold them in his lungs forever.

“Come on,” Joe says when they part, pulling Nicky behind him as they make their way toward the bathroom where the shower awaits.

***

It’s still dark out when Nicky wakes. He groans and rolls over to find Joe so he can curl up next to him like he did after they had showered and gotten dressed for bed. Joe’s so warm, and they had fit so perfectly. It was easy to fall asleep next to him. Maybe a little  _ too _ easy.

But Joe isn’t there, and his side of the bed is cold. Nicky blinks the sleep out of his eyes and gets out of bed. He knows Joe goes down to the bakery early, but maybe he hasn’t gone yet and Nicky can still catch him, kiss him good morning. Nicky pads out of the bedroom and sees Joe across the living room, standing in front of the windows and looking up into the dark, early-morning sky. Nicky frowns a little, curious about what Joe’s doing, and makes his way toward him.

Nicky steps behind Joe and presses his chest to Joe’s back, wraps his arms around Joe’s waist. Joe hums and folds his hand over Nicky’s. Nicky kisses his shoulder through the soft cotton of his t-shirt and hooks his chin over Joe’s shoulder to press his cheek against Joe’s. Joe leans his head against Nicky’s and starts to sway a little, slowly, like they’re dancing to music only Joe can hear.

“What are you doing?” Nicky asks, his voice thick from sleep.

“Looking at the stars.”

“Do you do this every morning?”

“Every morning I open the bakery, yeah.”

“Why?”

Joe tenses and stops swaying, and Nicky wonders if he’s just crossed some sort of line he didn’t know about. Joe sighs and shifts on his feet, patting Nicky’s hand as he forces himself to relax. 

“It’s something my dad did when I was growing up. He owned a bakery, too. He…”

Joe trails off and is still for a moment before he shakes his head and starts to sway slowly again. That’s the end of the conversation, Nicky knows, but it’s the most Joe has talked about his family since Nicky’s known him. Joe will tell him when he’s ready to, or he won’t and Nicky will be left wondering, but either way, Nicky decides it’s up to Joe if he wants Nicky to know or not. It doesn’t feel fair to press the issue, not when he’s leaving in a few months, and not when Joe was so good to him last night when he came to him with his own issues.

Nicky kisses the back of Joe’s neck, right where his lovely curls start, and looks up at the stars, too. Joe’s phone buzzes in his pocket a few minutes later, and Joe takes it out to silence it.

“Do you need to go?” Nicky asks as he starts to pull away. Joe holds on tightly to his hand, so Nicky leans back against him. 

“In a minute,” Joe tells him. Nicky holds Joe tighter and looks back out into the early-morning sky.

The bed is empty when Nicky wakes again, but this time the sky is brighter. Nicky rolls over onto his stomach and takes a few deep breaths, inhaling Joe’s scent. He always smells so good, like spices and fresh bread and sugar, and his bed smells that way, too. This is the first morning Nicky’s spent in Joe’s bed, and it feels good. It feels right. Of course it would be better if Joe were here with him, but Nicky will take it. Hopefully this isn’t the only chance he gets.

Earlier this morning when Joe led him back to bed before he went down to the bakery, he told him to sleep in and take his time, that the key to the apartment would be on the kitchen table, and to lock up after himself and come by the bakery to drop the key off after. So Nicky lazes in Joe’s incredibly comfortable bed for a while before he decides to finally get up. Nicky makes the bed and changes out of Joe’s clothes, leaving them folded on top of the thin cotton blanket before he dresses.

The key to the apartment is waiting on the kitchen table, as is a plate with fruit and a fresh croissant next to a note from Joe. “ _ Thought you might be a little hungry this morning after last night, — J _ ” it reads. Nicky smiles and feels incredibly fond as he eats his breakfast. He folds the note and tucks into the pocket of his jeans before taking his dishes over to the sink to wash them.

Joe hands him a coffee in a to-go cup in exchange for the key to his apartment and kisses him before waving and heading into the back room to finish frying a batch of bambalouni. Nile must be in class since she isn’t at the counter, but Booker is, and he raises an eyebrow at Nicky pointedly. It looks like he wants to say something more, but a customer walks in then, so he shifts his attention to taking care of her, and Nicky takes the opportunity to make his escape.

He tries to make his escape, at any rate, but Booker calls out a “Nicky, hold on, please!” as he’s heading out the door, and damn, now it would just be rude to walk out, so he goes back inside and sits down at a table. He sips his coffee as he waits for Booker to be done, trying not to let his brain think up too many ridiculous reasons Booker might want to talk to him. Nicky is in the bakery enough that he’s friendly with both Booker and Nile, but he wouldn’t exactly call them friends. They haven’t really hung out outside the walls of Dough & Joe. 

As he waits, he looks up at the art on the walls, trying to see if there are any new pieces hanging there. He really should ask Joe about it sometime, but the right moment never seems to come up.

The customer leaves, and Booker sits down across from him at the table. “How do you like the coffee?” he asks, nodding his head toward Nicky’s to-go cup.

“It’s good,” Nicky tells him honestly. “I can’t place the flavor, though. A little sweet but there’s something else in there.”

“It’s a hazelnut mocha. I’m trying to perfect the flavor ratio for the fall menu.”

“Hazelnut, of course. Maybe a tad more of that, I think.”

Booker chuckles. “I’ll try that and have you taste it again the next time you’re in.”

“So this afternoon?” Nicky says, smiling.

“Yeah, this afternoon,” Booker huffs. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you were free next Saturday. It’s my birthday, and we’re going out to dinner.”

Nicky blinks at him. That is definitely not what he expected Booker to say. “And you want me to come?”

“Well, yeah. You’re Joe’s...whatever, and you’re in here all the time. I thought it would be nice to get to know you more outside of the bakery.”

“Then yes, I’d — I’d like that,” Nicky tells him, still a little surprised. It must show on his face because Booker laughs again.

“Don’t worry, Joe’s coming, too. You two can have some dinner and drinks and still come back to his flat after to fuck each other’s brains out.”

“Ah,” Nicky says rather intelligently, if he says so himself, as he feels his cheeks flushing.

Booker just laughs yet again and pats Nicky’s shoulder as he stands up. “He did kiss you just now. Besides, Joe’s always extra happy the days after you come over in the evenings, and you two aren’t exactly subtle in the afternoons, you know — always with the hungry looks across the bakery. It’s sweet and a little gross, but hey, at least  _ someone _ in this place is getting laid on the regular, so congratulations on that.”

Nicky groans and stands up as well, telling Booker, “and on that note, I’m leaving,” and walks out the door, Booker’s laughter trailing behind him. His Nonna just smirks at him when he gets home wearing the same clothes and pretends to feel like she isn’t up for the walk to the bakery today, which Nicky recognizes for the ploy it is but is also extremely grateful anyway.

“Yes, I feel better than I did last night. Yes, I was at Joe’s all night. No, I don’t want to talk about it,” he says before Nonna can even ask.

“I know. Yusuf texted me to tell me you were there, and that you were safe, and that he would take care of you.”

Nicky smiles fondly before he realizes what his Nonna said. “Wait,  _ Joe _ texted you? Since when does he have your number?”

“Since the accident. And he did text me, yes. He’s a good boy, and he wanted to make sure I knew where you were since you were upset when you left here, and you were upset when you arrived at his flat. I figured that’s where you were going, but it was nice of him to make sure I wasn’t worrying about you,” she says pointedly.

“It was nice of him, and I’m sorry I didn’t text you myself,” Nicky apologizes.

“That’s all right, you weren’t thinking like yourself.”

“Does Joe text you a lot?”

“Only when I ask him to explain the memes the women in my scopa group post in our group chat.”

Nicky blinks a few times as he tries to process that sentence. “You know what memes are? Your scopa group has a group chat? Why are you asking Joe to explain them and not me?!”

“Oh, Nicolò,” she says, the pity dripping off her tongue so heavily that Nicky can’t help but laugh.

“Well, now I want to see these memes!”

His Nonna cackles and tells him to find her phone and bring it over. They spend an hour going through the scopa group chat, laughing and teasing each other. Turns out his Nonna was right to ask Joe to explain them. Nicky has no idea what the hell most of them mean.

**I can’t believe you and my Nonna text about scopa group chat memes,** Nicky texts Joe later that morning. Joe just texts back a cry-laugh emoji and a winking emoji.  **Thank you for letting her know where I was last night,** Nicky texts him again, but he doesn’t get an answer. Joe must be busy in the bakery.

Joe kisses him when Nicky walks into the bakery later that afternoon. “You’re welcome,” he says and goes back behind the counter.

Booker’s birthday dinner is at a cozy bistro a 15-minute walk from Agnese’s flat. Joe is there when Nicky arrives, as is Nile, and it’s just the four of them. Joe had chuckled when Nicky asked what Booker might like for his birthday, and he’d suggested “a round of shots on you,” but Nicky wanted to get him something else, something physical that he could open. He didn’t know why he felt like he wanted that, but he did. He thinks he found something Booker will like. He hopes so, anyway.

He hands over his gift when Nile and Joe do, after they order their food but before the first course has arrived. Booker and Nile look surprised that he brought a gift, but Joe just smiles that sunny smile of his and scoots over on the booth seat to bump their shoulders together. Nile’s gift is a bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans and a slim volume of poems in French that Booker seems excited about. Joe’s is a bunch of socks that makes Booker smile and roll his eyes, explaining to Nicky that it’s an old family joke. Which doesn’t really explain anything, but Nicky lets it go.

He’s a little unsure of what to make of Nicky’s gift when he opens it, Nicky can tell. “It’s a stone-paper journal,” Nicky informs him. “The pages are waterproof.” Nicky’s seen the way Booker writes down coffee recipes or other notes during the day, and how inevitably they get ruined by hot water or coffee drips.

“Nicky, I don’t know — thank you,” Booker says, confusion and surprise evident in his voice. And on his face. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, how about a bottle of wine on me?” Nicky says, to a rousing cheer from the group. Joe is smiling his broadest smile when Nicky looks over at him, the one that makes Nicky think of the way the sun feels on your shoulders when you’re at the beach. Joe winks at him, and Nicky rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, to Joe’s clear delight if his laugh is anything to go by.

The dinner is fun, especially once they all get a glass of wine in them and forget that Nicky hasn’t been part of their friend group for years like the other three have been. Nile and Booker tell a bunch of stories about Joe as Nicky eggs them on and Joe pretends like he’s annoyed by the whole thing.

“Oh, Nicky, you’ll love this one,” Booker starts. Nicky leans in a little to hear him better. “A few months after Joe came to France, he and I —”

“No, Booker, please don’t. Not, uh…not France,” Joe cuts in. His face is pinched when Nicky looks at him.

“Sure, Joe,” Booker says contritely. “Sorry.”

Joe waves him off, and Booker changes the subject. Nicky reaches under the table to squeeze one of Joe’s hands where he’s rubbing his palm on his thigh. Joe smiles at him, but it’s small and tight. It takes him a while to loosen up again.

“So what’s the deal with you and Joe?” Nile asks at one point when Joe gets up to use the restroom.

“What has Joe told you is the deal?” Nicky counters. He doesn’t want to say anything Joe hasn’t told his friends.

“He said you’re doing the whole friends with benefits thing,” Booker answers.

“That’s what we’re doing, yes.”

“And that’s all?” Nile presses.

“What more would there be? I’m going back to my life in Genoa in December, it doesn’t make sense for us to start anything more serious.” Nicky tells them. What is with all the questions about his and Joe’s arrangement lately? First it was Nonna, and now Nile and Booker? Is he missing something?

“You’re sure that’s all it is? Maybe that’s how it started but now…” Booker trails off, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

Nicky waits for him to finish, but when he doesn’t, Nicky says, “That’s all it is. We agreed at the beginning. Look, I like Joe. A lot. He’s fun to be around, we get along so well, and the —” _sex is_ _fantastic_ , he stops himself from saying. Joe’s friends don’t need to know that unless Joe chooses to tell them.

“Sex is good?” Nile supplies, smirking.

“I was going to say fantastic, but yes. We are two adults who have chosen to enjoy each other’s company while we can.”

“Okay,” Nile says after she and Booker exchange a look. “If that’s all it is, then that’s all it is.”

“Did Joe say something different? Is that why you’re asking?” 

“No, Nicky, he didn’t. He said the same. We just don’t want him getting hurt when you leave. We haven’t seen him this interested in someone in a long time, that’s all,” Booker says.

“You’re just looking out for your friend. I understand,” Nicky tells them. And he does get it. If Andy and Quynh were here, they’d probably be grilling Joe the first chance they got, too.

“A friend who is currently on his way back to the table. Quick, act like I just said something funny,” Nile tells them. Nicky tries to fake laugh, cringing when he hears himself. It’s not very convincing. Booker is a little better, but Joe looks incredibly skeptical when he sits back down.

“Wow, I’ll pretend I don’t know that you were just talking about me and instead ask if anyone wants more wine?” Joe says cheekily, giving them all an out that they take gladly.

Booker and Nile live a little further than they feel like walking, so they decide to share a cab once dinner is over. “Come home with me?” Joe asks, his voice soft and hopeful. 

“I’d like that,” Nicky tells him truthfully. They wait with Booker and Nile, chatting and teasing each other until their cab comes, before walking back to Joe’s flat, hand in hand.

“I didn’t know you used to live in France,” Nicky says after they’ve been walking a few minutes. Nicky feels Joe tense at his side. “That must have been a truly embarrassing story if you didn’t want Booker to tell it,” he tries to tease, kicking himself a little for bringing it up again.

“No, it uh...It wasn’t —”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. You clearly don’t want to talk about it. Just forget I said anything.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t the best time in my life, is all.”

“What was?”

“Huh?”

“What was the best time in your life? Or one of them, anyway?”

“That’s a good question,” Joe says, relaxing as they continue walking and the subject moves away from France. “Oh, I’ve got one. Okay, so I took a gap year before I started culinary school, and Booker met up with me during a holiday break at University, and we decided to go to Amsterdam.”

Joe launches into a tale about his youthful indiscretions with Booker that has Nicky crying with laughter. Joe is such a gifted storyteller, has such a way with words, it makes you feel like you were there with them getting chased out of the red-light district by an angry man who thought you were an undercover cop.

Joe finishes the story, laughing at how hard Nicky’s laughing. Nicky stumbles over an uneven bit of sidewalk, falling against Joe, who barely catches him in time, and they both stumble up against the wall of the nearest building. It’s September now, but the days are still sunny and mild, so the stones against Nicky’s back are pleasantly warm. 

Joe’s pressed up against Nicky, giggling at how they ended up. Nicky reaches up to touch the smile on Joe’s lips, the crinkles by his eyes, the curls of hair around his ears. Joe pulls back a bit so he can look at Nicky, and his face is so tender, his eyes so soft and luminous, that Nicky has no choice but to kiss him.

“Hey,” Nicky says a few weeks later as he’s walking into Joe’s flat. He barely has a chance to shut the door behind him before Joe’s kissing him, hard, and backing him up against the door, which closes with a sharp  _ snick.  _ Joe is rough and greedy, nipping at Nicky’s lips as he cups Nicky’s face with his hands to keep it still. Normally Nicky doesn’t mind when they get a little rough, but they usually work up to it a little more.

“Joe,” Nicky starts, but Joe just kisses him again and again and again. Nicky puts his hand on Joe’s chest to brace himself, and he can feel Joe’s heart racing. “Joe, stop, please,” Nicky says, pushing at Joe gently to get him to back up. Something feels off.

Joe’s eyes go wide as he stumbles back away from Nicky. He looks scared and shocked. He opens his mouth as if to speak, closing it again when he can’t get the words out. He’s clearly incredibly upset about something, but Nicky’s never seen him like this before, and he’s not quite sure how to handle it.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Joe,” Nicky says slowly and calmly. “Why don’t we go sit down, and we can talk about —”

Joe is getting angrier and angrier as Nicky talks, and he finally interrupts Nicky with a hissed “ _ stop it _ !”

“Joe —”

“Stop talking to me like I’m some kind of — of scared animal!”

“Okay, I’m sorry!” Nicky holds up his hands, palm out. He has no idea what the fuck is going on.

“Though I suppose it makes sense. You come over, and we fuck like animals, of course that’s how you would talk to me.”

“I do  _ not _ think you’re an animal! And that is not how we fuck!”

“Okay, yeah, I know," Joe huffs angrily. "But that is why you come over, isn’t it? To fuck?”

“Joe —”

“So are we? Going to fuck?”

“I…” Nicky can’t think of anything he wants less right now than that, and the longer it takes him to try and figure out what he could say that won’t hurt Joe’s feelings, the more Joe’s face falls. He’s not angry anymore. Instead he looks horribly, ruinously sad.

“Please leave,” Joe whispers as he closes his eyes and steps back even further from Nicky. He wraps his arms around himself, and even though Nicky is incredibly confused, he desperately wants to go comfort the man in front of him.

“Joe…” he tries again, but Joe just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. For yelling. And for forcing myself on you like that.”

“You didn’t, I’m not —”

“Please just go, Nicky,” Joe says with a finality that makes Nicky’s stomach clench.

“All right, I’ll — all right.” Nicky wants to say something more, something that will snap Joe out of whatever mood he’s in tonight, that will help make sense of what just happened. But that’s not really what they do, is it? They aren’t dating. It isn’t really his place. Joe turns his back and walks away, across the flat and into his bedroom. The door closes softly, but the sound echoes in Nicky’s ears all the same.

Nicky texts Booker on the walk back to his Nonna’s flat, thankful that they traded numbers at his birthday dinner. 

_ Joe is really upset about something tonight, but he won’t tell me what.  _

_ He just kicked me out of his flat. _

_ He did? _

_ Oh, shit.  _

_ Thanks, Nicky, I’ll handle it. _

_ Is he okay? _

_ Not really. But it’s not your fault.  _

_ Just go home, okay? We’ll see you tomorrow. _

_ Okay. Tell him I hope he’s feeling better. _

Nicky watches as three little dots start and stop and start and stop under Booker’s name before disappearing for good. Nicky pockets his phone and finishes the walk back home, worrying the whole way and well into the night.

Joe isn’t in the bakery when he and his Nonna come in the next morning. Nile and Booker look tense about something, so Nicky gets his Nonna all settled in with her coffee and a ghraybeh before he goes back up to the counter to talk to them.

“He’s upstairs,” Booker tells him. 

“He prepped for the day and then said he was taking the rest of the day off when I got in,” Nile explains. “He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Is he sick?” Nicky asks, a little confused. “He didn’t seem sick last night, but…” Maybe that explains why he was acting so strangely.

Booker shakes his head. “He’s not sick. Not physically, anyway.”

Nicky frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means after you take Nonna Agnese home, you need to get your ass back here and go up there and be with him,” Nile says pointedly.

“I...oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Nile teases. “Now go sit with your Nonna and keep her company.”

Nicky walks back over to the table in a daze, squeezing his Nonna’s hand gently when she reaches for him. Something’s wrong with Joe, and his friends want Nicky to help. But more than that, he  _ wants _ to help. He wants to go up and see Joe, to hold him and listen as he tells Nicky what’s wrong. He wants to bury his hands in Joe’s soft curls and scratch his scalp the way that always makes him sigh happily.

“My my, look at the time,” Nonna mumbles, her mouth stuffed with the ghraybeh. “Time to head home.”

That pulls Nicky out of his own head enough to frown at her. “We just arrived.”

“Have we? Well, it’s time to go again. Come on, help me up, you know I still need a hand getting up from these chairs.”

Nicky jumps up out of his seat to help her stand, just as Booker comes over with a to-go cup and pours the rest of Agnese’s coffee into it. She thanks him and pats him on the cheek, and then she’s shuffling out of the bakery and back onto the street.

“Nonna, what is happening?” Nicky says, completely confused. 

“The bakery isn’t that large, Nicolò, and you three conspirators weren’t exactly quiet.”

“Ah,” Nicky says, a rush of fondness sweeping through his chest as he finally realizes what’s going on. “Thank you.”

“Let’s hurry home, shall we?” she says, smiling up at him. 

Joe gave him the passcode to the front door weeks ago, so Nicky keys it in and lets himself into the building, running up the stairs two at a time until he reaches Joe’s floor. He knocks on the door and steps back, waiting for Joe to answer. He pulls the door open with a “Booker, I told you I was —” freezing mid-sentence when he sees Nicky standing there.

He looks...god, he looks exhausted and completely wrung out. His hair is a mess, poofy on one side and flat on the other, his shirt has stains all over it and the neck is all stretched out, and his socks have a hole so his big toe is sticking out on one foot.

He’s the most beautiful thing Nicky has ever seen.

Joe steps back to let Nicky into the flat. He swallows heavily as his eyes start filling with tears, and Nicky opens his arms and lets Joe collapse into them. Nicky closes the door with his leg and holds Joe as he tucks his head into Nicky’s neck and breathes and breathes and breathes. When he pulls back, the tears are gone from his eyes, a tentative smile on his lips instead.

“Let’s build a fort,” Nicky suggests. “Not Fort Fuck,” he clarifies when Joe’s face falls. “Just a fort. I always feel so safe in there with you. I just want to hold you, okay? And listen if you want to talk. That’s all.”

Joe smiles in relief and leans in to gently bump his forehead against Nicky’s. “That would be nice,” he tells Nicky, and his heart soars at the admission.

It takes them a little while to get the fort built, but Nicky doesn’t mind. Joe’s moving slowly, like he’s trying to walk through water, so Nicky matches his pace and doesn’t mention it. He asks Joe if he needs anything before they crawl inside, and Joe shakes his head. “Just you,” he says. Nicky smiles and pulls Joe down into the pile of blankets and pillows inside the fort.

Nicky ends up on his back with Joe half draped on his chest, half curled up against his side. He runs his fingers through Joe’s curls, puffing up the ones that got all flattened down, and lets Joe’s warmth soak into his bones as he waits for Joe to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that warrants the Brief Mentions of Homophobia tag, friends. It only happens during Joe's POV part, so the first half, of the chapter. Please see the notes at the end of the chapter for a more detailed description.

Nicky is warm and solid beneath Joe, his broad hand soothing as it cards through Joe’s hair. He nuzzles further into Nicky’s neck and breathes in the smell of him. It’s familiar now, and Joe loves it. Loves him. Loves Nicky.

He has for weeks, he realized when he finally let himself think about his feelings head-on. Sometimes he thinks he should have said no when Nicky proposed their friends with benefits thing, should have thought logically about the fact that he falls hard when he does fall, about how he had clicked so instantly with Nicky that it only could have ended one way: with a broken heart.

Most of the time, though, he’s just grateful for every minute of time Nicky wants to spend with him. He refuses to let himself feel guilty about that.

He does feel guilty about yesterday and how he treated Nicky, so he apologizes again for that. Nicky says there’s nothing to apologize for, and Joe protests, so Nicky huffs and says he’s forgiven instead. Which helps loosen the knot in Joe’s chest some. Makes him want to tell Nicky what’s really bothering him, what yesterday was all about. He knows he doesn’t  _ owe _ Nicky anything, not a better explanation, not the whole story, and he’s a little scared that Nicky will look at him differently after, will treat him differently, but...it’s Nicky. If there’s any chance this thing they have can last, then Nicky needs to know. No. He  _ wants _ Nicky to know.

Still. His Aunt knows because she took him in. Booker knows because he was around for the aftermath. Nile knows because she’s been his friend and employee for years, and she’s been there to help with his bad days. They’re the only three people he’s ever told. 

He takes a deep breath and tries to will down his nerves. “Nicky, I…” Nicky shifts a little so he’s tilted more toward Joe and can wrap his other arm around Joe’s waist. Joe whimpers softly and closes his eyes. They ache a little, and he can feel tears starting to prickle. And he hasn’t even started talking yet,  _ fuck. _

“You must be level 5 to unlock my tragic backstory,” he jokes, trying to break the tension.

Nicky snorts out a laugh, wiggling before he settles again. “Is that what this is? A tragic backstory?”

“It...yeah. Yeah, I think it is. I’m not really sure where to begin, I don’t tell people about this usually.”

“Start wherever you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

_ You will soon _ , Joe’s brain supplies. “The beginning then, I guess,” Joe hedges. Nicky kisses his forehead and holds onto Joe a little tighter. Nicky is so broad, and Joe fits so perfectly in his arms. It calms him, makes him feel brave enough to start talking.

“I was 13 when I realized I looked at boys the way my friends were looking at girls. I grew up in Hammamet in Tunisia, and that wasn’t...allowed. Not for people like my family, anyway. Maybe if you were rich, but we weren’t. My parents owned a bakery there, near the fancy hotels and the medina. It’s a coastal resort town, Hammamet, a tourist town, especially in the summer.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It was. Is, I assume. I haven’t been there in years. Growing up, we met people from all over who came to vacation, and my parents weren’t the most strict, but they were good Muslims, and...well, anyway, I never said anything to them because I knew they wouldn’t approve, I knew it was wrong.”

“Oh, Joe,” Nicky sighs.

“Not  _ wrong _ , I know that now, but back then I thought it was wrong — that  _ I _ was wrong.

“But they noticed anyway, my parents, noticed that I didn’t talk about girls, and they started treating me differently. They weren’t mean or abusive, but they pulled away a little, got more distant. My mother especially had been really supportive of my art up until that point, but she and my father decided I was done taking lessons and instead it was time to devote myself to school and the bakery. So I started working there whenever I wasn’t in school or doing homework. I didn’t go out with my friends much, I just baked and baked.”

“What did you make?”

“Whatever my father told me to: things from the bakery, other recipes he liked but didn’t sell, my mother’s childhood favorites. They taught me all the recipes they used until I knew them by heart, until I didn’t make any mistakes with the doughs, until I knew how to prepare a menu and budget my time so I knew in what order things had to be made, how to plan for fridge and freezer space. They taught me how to place orders for ingredients, how to get the best prices, how to experiment with new recipes, how to deep clean the kitchen. How to set the prices for my goods and how to hire staff and how to keep the books. They spent years teaching me everything I needed to know to run a bakery.”

“That sounds very difficult,” Nicky empathizes. “And very lonely.”

“It was, and I — I just didn’t understand why they were doing it, you know? They were so adamant about it, and so strict with me. It was like they were desperate for me to learn these things and they’d only relax once I did. I got up early on weekends, before morning prayers even, and would work in the bakery with my father, stopping to pray when the muezzin called. We only talked when it was about business. Before, he had been so open and loving and proud. He used to look at me and I knew he loved me, but I couldn’t tell anymore, and I missed it. I worked so hard to try to get him to look at me that way again, but…”

“Oh, Joe,” Nicky chokes out, his voice thick. He reaches up to wipe the tears from Joe’s cheek, and Joe starts a little at the contact. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

Joe takes a deep, shaky breath and continues. “My little sisters never treated me any different, at least, so I know my parents never said anything to them about their suspicions. They were all so sweet and fun and annoying, like little sisters are supposed to be.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Three. They were 3, 6, and 9 years younger than me. Well, technically they still are, I guess, but...they’re grown women now, they —” Joe pauses to clear his throat. “Anyway, the summer when I was 16, my parents decided we all needed a break, so they closed down the bakery for a week and took us all on holiday to the South of France. It was so much fun. I felt lighter than I had in years, more carefree. 

“And there was this boy. Étienne. He was sweet and cute, and we used to sneak away from our families to kiss behind a building. My parents caught us kissing the day before we left. They didn’t say anything, they just hauled me back to the hotel and pretended like nothing had happened. I felt so guilty, like I had ruined the vacation for them, you know?”

“I’m sure they didn’t think that, Joe,” Nicky says as he cards his fingers through Joe’s hair.

“I was too afraid to ask them. I didn’t want to hear them say yes.”

Nicky swears in Italian under his breath and presses a kiss to Joe’s head.

“Things were tense enough between my parents and me when we got back home that even my sisters noticed, but my parents didn’t say anything for two weeks. And then they called us all together one Sunday morning and sat us down in the kitchen.

“I knew it was something important because my father closed the bakery for the morning. He slid an envelope across the table. Inside was my passport and a plane ticket to France and some money. He said I wasn’t welcome in their house anymore, in their family, and that they were sending me to go live with his sister, my Aunt Nadia, in France. She had married a Frenchman years before, and she was more secular and had agreed to take me in.

“My sisters started crying, but they weren’t going to go against my parents, they were just kids, so they just sat there crying as I got up to pack a bag. I felt numb, like this couldn’t be happening. I think I was in shock. I packed as many clothes as I could, and a few pictures, little trinkets my mom and sisters had given me. My father called a taxi, and I said my goodbyes to my sisters, and I didn’t start crying until my mother did, but I got in the taxi when it arrived like a dutiful son, and I left.”

“Fucking hell, Joe,” Nicky says wetly. He lifts his hand to wipe at his face before bringing it back down to wrap around Joe again.

“My Aunt Nadia was waiting at the airport when I got off the plane, a sign in her hand with my name on it. I had never met her before, but she had the same eyes as my father, and she gasped when she saw me. She pulled me in for the biggest hug, Nicky, she just squeezed the hell out of me, and it felt so good that I broke down right there in the airport and cried and cried. I didn’t even cry that hard when I left my own family, but something about her hugging me like that just broke everything loose.”

“She made you feel safe enough for your feelings to break through the shock,” Nicky suggests.

“Yeah, that — I think you’re right. She pulled me over to the side, out of the way of the gate, and held me until I had worked it all out of my system. Months later she told me that one of the gate agents moved gates for the next flight so we wouldn’t be disturbed, which was a little embarrassing but also a really nice gesture.

“Aunt Nadia was so kind. She and her husband Pierre-Michel lived in Marseilles, in this lovely little cottage. It was beautiful, so lush and green and so very different from what I was used to. I was quiet a lot of the time, and angry a lot more, but they were gentle and patient with me.”

“I’m so glad you had them. I know it was hard, but…”

“I am, too. It took me a little while to feel that way, but I’m so grateful for them. They helped so much with the transition, with getting me settled in France. School was hard, you know how kids are, but the two of them did everything they could to try and make me feel welcome and loved. 

“They didn’t have any kids of their own for me to spend time with, but Booker, his parents lived next door. His mom is best friends with Aunt Nadia, and so she became like another Aunt to me. She was an amazing baker, and she taught me some of her recipes, and I taught her some of mine. Booker was already at University when I arrived, but he would come home for breaks and in the summer, and he would let me hang around, and we ended up becoming good friends.”

“That was kind of him,” Nicky says.

“It was. He never forced me to talk, he was just there for me, you know? After high school, I decided to take that gap year before culinary school, and Booker got married too young, and I graduated and got a job as a pastry chef in a good restaurant, he started drinking too much, I worked too much, we worried about each other. 

“I decided I wanted a fresh start somewhere else, and Booker used to talk about it with me, kind of wistfully like he wished he could come, too, and I ended up settling on Malta as the place to go. I nervously asked the people who ran the restaurant I worked at if they would give me a letter of recommendation, and they were sad to see me go, but they helped me find a job in Malta at one of the fancy hotels. My Aunt and Uncle tearfully helped me move, but they were also so proud of me.

“Booker used to call whenever he and his wife were having problems, which was all the time, and we used to talk about me opening my own place. After a few years at the hotel, I’d saved up some money, and I’d made enough contacts that I was able to get a business loan to open my own place. Booker ended up divorcing his wife almost two years after I opened Dough & Joe, and he came to Malta to run the coffee bar, and now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Nicky says thickly. “Have you seen or talked to your family since?”

Joe sighs and shakes his head. “No. My mom used to write to Aunt Nadia, and she would let me read the letters, but...it was too much after a while.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Joe. That’s awful.”

“It was. And I was angry at them for so long. They disowned me and sent me away. Part of me is grateful, which feels so messed up, but I realized it could have been so much worse for me. Things are changing in Tunisia. Slowly, way too slowly, but they are. It’s still illegal to be gay, and it definitely was back then. My parents could have turned me in, or a neighbor could have, or I could have been stupid and gotten caught. I could have gone to jail. There are social repercussions, Nicky, serious ones. The family bakery would have lost customers, no one would have wanted to marry my sisters. They would have been shunned. At least they sent me to live with family and didn’t just kick me out onto the streets. And my parents made sure I had a trade, a skill I could use to find work. 

“So I’m not angry anymore. I hate what they did, but I don’t hate them. I just wish…” Joe’s voice cracks as his throat tightens. Nicky kisses his hair and pulls Joe closer.

“I just wish they still loved me,” Joe whispers into Nicky’s neck as he lets his tears fall. Nicky makes a little wounded sound, but he doesn’t say anything, which Joe’s grateful for. He knows Nicky is hurting for him, and he knows what happened was unfair. Nothing Nicky says now is going to change that. Offering the warmth and familiarity of his body, the strength of his arms, the soothing sound of his heart beating when Joe lays his head on Nicky’s chest — those are the best things Nicky can give to him right now. 

And he does. Joe closes his eyes and lets the warmth of Nicky’s body against his lull him to sleep.

Joe feels scraped and raw when his alarm goes off in the morning, still wrapped around Nicky in their blanket fort. Nicky scrunches up his face as he tries to blink the sleep away, and he looks so adorable that Joe just has to lean up to kiss his nose. Nicky smiles and makes a little kissy face, so Joe pecks him on the lips. He’s feeling better already. Waking up with Nicky like this...it feels good. It feels right. He brushes away the hair from Nicky’s forehead and wishes he had the chance to get used to it.

“Mm, what time’s it?” Nicky mumbles sleepily.

Joe shushes him. “It’s early. Go back to sleep.”

“Wanna look at the stars with you,” Nicky grumbles.

Fuck, he’s so adorable like this, sleep-warm and disheveled. His t-shirt rode up a little in the night, and the barest sliver of skin is showing above the waistband of his sweats. Joe trails his fingers across it, tickling the coarse hairs below Nicky’s belly button. Nicky giggles and tries to swat at Joe, but he catches Nicky’s hand and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist instead.

“I’ll wake you for the stars, okay? Go back to sleep for a bit first.”

“‘Kay,” Nicky agrees, rolling over when Joe releases his arm.

Joe showers and has his breakfast and coffee. He wakes Nicky like he said he would, and Nicky wraps a blanket around himself and comes to the window to stand behind him, chin hooked over Joe’s shoulder like the last time they did this. He’s quiet, but Joe can hear the gears turning in his head.

“You can ask,” Joe tells him, so Nicky does. 

“Tunisia and Malta, are they in the same time zone?”

“Yeah, they are.” Nicky hums but doesn’t say anything more. Joe works at his lower lip a little. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly nervous to tell Nicky this one thing, not when he came back after Joe’s behavior a couple days ago, and not after yesterday. But he is. Maybe it’s because he knows Nicky won’t be there next year if he falls apart again.

“It was my mother’s birthday two days ago,” Joe tells him before he can second-guess himself. “It’s been 17 years since I’ve seen her, seen them. I’ve been gone longer than I was there. Sometimes I wonder if they even…”  _ Remember me _ , he doesn’t say, though Nicky seems to understand anyway.

“Oh, Joe. How I wish things had been different for you,” Nicky whispers into his ear. He presses closer against Joe’s back and wraps his arms around Joe’s torso. Joe leans back and lets Nicky take some of his weight. He knows Nicky can bear it. He wraps his hand around Nicky’s wrist and holds it tightly as he looks up at the stars, hoping, even after all these years, that his father is staring up at the same ones, in his little bakery across the sea.

  
  


***

Joe seems off the next few days when Nicky sees him at the bakery. He’s not smiling as much, or talking as much. Nicky has to repeat something he’s said more than once because Joe’s zoned out. Joe apologizes when Nicky asks what’s wrong, says it’s just his mom’s birthday, that it hits him every year, but this year was extra hard. That he doesn’t regret telling Nicky about his family, but it brought up some latent feelings he needs to work through. 

Nicky believes him, but he doesn’t think that’s everything. He doesn’t want to press, especially since Joe so clearly doesn’t want to tell him, not after Joe shared so much of himself.

So Nicky watches, and he waits, and he tries his best to make Joe happy again. Joe seems to come out of it after about a week, and things between them go back to normal, more or less.

About a month before he’s set to leave, Nicky realizes he hasn’t done any of the work he wanted to do fixing up his Nonna’s flat. He’s been so focused on her recovery — which is going incredibly well, he’s so proud of her — on his book, and on Joe, that he never set aside the time for flat repairs. He’s made a lot of progress on his book, what with all those afternoons in the bakery to write, so he decides he’s earned a few weeks off to focus on the flat.

He goes around the flat with his Nonna and makes a list of things to do. It’s slightly long and imposing, if he’s being honest with himself, especially since he’s never actually fixed some of the things he’s thinking about doing. Thank god for the internet, though. There are more home-improvement videos on there than he could ever watch in his lifetime.

First he fixes the sticky drawers in the kitchen and the faucet in the bathroom that slowly drips. It takes him longer than he anticipated, so he ends up not going to the bakery all day. He and Joe weren’t planning on seeing each other that night, so Nicky decides he might as well start on the next repair project, which is patching up some scrapes in the plaster walls around the flat.

That also takes him much longer than he expected. Which is starting to feel like a trend. But fixing things for his Nonna, making the flat better for her...it’s kind of addicting. And fun in a way he didn’t think home improvement could be. It’s calming, really — planning a project, researching it, then carrying it out. It lets Nicky get out of his head a little, lets him zone out. The physical labor aspect of repairs is a different sort of work than he’s used to, more physically demanding, so he’s been falling asleep early, too, often without seeing Joe in the evenings. 

They still text back and forth sporadically throughout the day, but it’s not the same as seeing him. And Nicky...is startled to realize how much he misses Joe, misses his smile and his laugh, the way his eyes crinkle up when he’s happy. The way he tugs at his curls absentmindedly when he’s trying to think. The way his hands always smell a little like spices and flour no matter how many times he washes them. The way his face lights up when he sees Nicky. The way he moans Nicky’s name when he comes.

Now that he thinks about it, It’s been a whole week since he’s seen Joe, and that seems far too long suddenly. 

He looks out the window to the courtyard behind his Nonna’s flat, cursing when he sees the daylight is starting to fade. He’s in the middle of spackling old nail holes in the plaster walls, but he only has three more to go, so he finishes those in a hurry, not caring how pretty it looks. He can sand out any imperfections later. He washes off his putty knife and puts away the spackle, kissing his Nonna on the head before he rushes out the door.

“I’m going to Joe’s!” he calls out behind him.

“About time!” she calls back, laughter in her voice.

He practically runs to Joe’s flat, making it there in record time, panting and breathless when he knocks on Joe’s door. Joe looks surprised to see Nicky, and his expression turns to worry when he takes in Nicky’s appearance, stepping aside to usher Nicky into the apartment.

“Are you okay?” Joe asks, concerned.

“I am,” Nicky pants, “I am now.”

“Are you sure? You have...putty or something all over your hands and forearms and shirt, and is that dust in your hair?”

“Plaster dust,” Nicky says, smiling broadly. “I was fixing the nail holes in Nonna’s walls.”

“And you...what, just decided to run over here? But not because something is wrong?”

“I realized I hadn’t seen you in a week.” Nicky’s still smiling, but Joe’s face goes from confused to soft in an instant. Fuck, those luminous eyes of his. “Joe?”

“I thought…” Joe starts, clearing his throat and looking down at his feet. He shifts his weight a few times before continuing. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“What?! Why wouldn’t I want to see you anymore?”

Joe shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t look up.

“Joe, please, tell me why you thought that.” Nicky is wracking his brain, but he can’t think of anything he said or did to indicate he didn’t want to see Joe again.

Joe takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders, steeling himself for whatever it is he wants to say next. Nicky’s stomach flips over a little. He has a feeling he’s not going to like whatever’s going to come out of Joe’s mouth.

“I thought maybe after my mom’s birthday and everything that happened, how needy I was, how much I relied on you, how long it took me to work my way out of that funk...that maybe it was too much for you, that it wasn’t what we agreed on, wasn’t what you signed up for. And so you were trying to keep your distance, let me down easy. Or. Not break up because we’re not a couple, but…” Joe trails off, shrugging again as he looks back down at the floor.

Nicky is shocked, stunned into silence. The thought never once crossed his mind that Joe would think he was pulling away from him, but when he spells it out like that...fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, no, no, no, this is — this is a disaster! And Joe...the longer Nicky takes to try and get over his shock, the more Joe’s face twists up in pain, and that’s horrible, Joe should never look that hurt. And it’s all Nicky’s fault,  _ fuck! _

“Joe…” Nicky whispers, reaching out his hand. Joe flinches, and Nicky pulls his hand back like he’s been burnt. Joe looks absolutely miserable now, like he fully expects Nicky to tell him he’s right, that he never wants to see Joe again.

“Joe, I…” Nicky tries once more, words catching in his throat as Joe looks up at him. There are tear tracks down his cheeks. He looks horribly resigned. Nicky can see his expression start to change, whatever he’s seeing on Nicky’s face right now making him look...well, almost hopeful again.

“Nicky?” he breathes. He sounds so small, and Nicky can’t stand one more second of it, not when he can fix it. He still doesn’t know what to say, but he can show Joe how he feels, he can show Joe how wrong he is, how much he means to Nicky.

Nicky steps forward and cups Joe’s face in his hands and kisses him. Joe whines into Nicky’s mouth and kisses back, winding his arms around Nicky’s body to hold him close. Nicky kisses him and kisses him, pouring all his care, all his desire into the kisses, hoping beyond hope that Joe understands. His heart is pounding in his chest.

“Nicolò,” he whines when Nicky pulls back. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells Joe, “I’m so sorry. I just got caught up in fixing my Nonna’s flat, I never meant to make you think I was avoiding you, I never meant to hurt you. Joe, I —”

“Okay,” Joe says, cutting him off with another kiss. “Okay. I believe you.”

Nicky nods and presses his forehead to Joe’s, sighing a little as his heart rate starts slowing. Joe reaches up and wipes away some putty from Nicky’s face. Nicky huffs when Joe holds up a dusty finger for him to see.

“You are a little disgusting, though, habibi.”

Joe’s beaming at him, and Nicky echoes it, helpless in the face of Joe’s sunshine smile. “Shower?” he suggests.

“Sure,” Joe says, still smiling. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Nicky catches his wrist as he turns away. “I meant together.”

They haven’t done that since the first time Nicky stayed the night, shower together. It always felt a little too intimate for Nicky, despite everything else they’ve done together. Now, though. Now he wants so very desperately.

Joe’s smile softens beautifully. “Yeah. Okay.” He reaches out to take Joe’s hand and lets Joe lead him to the bathroom.

Joe digs out a towel when they get to the bathroom and sets it down on the counter. He turns his back to Nicky and pulls his shirt off, folding it carefully before setting it down on the floor. He never folds his clothes like that. 

Nicky steps closer to touch Joe’s shoulder. Joe trembles at the contact and wraps his arms around himself. Nicky frowns and pulls at Joe’s shoulder a little, turning him around so he can see Joe’s face, his beautiful, expressive face, so open and vulnerable. He’s not even trying to hide his emotions, they’re all there for Nicky to see, fragile and sweet like a honeycomb in summer. 

Joe’s eyes flutter shut as Nicky cups his face and peppers kisses to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the little freckle at the tip of his nose; to the hope, the desire, and the love. The  _ love _ , oh, to be loved by such a man as this. 

“You’re beautiful,” Nicky whispers against his forehead, “so beautiful,” he sighs on his lips. Joe’s eyes are glittering, liquid pools of pure adoration when he opens them, a wistful smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. Nicky’s chest feels tight, his throat burns when he swallows. Joe tracks the movement and raises his eyebrows as if to make sure Nicky is okay.  _ Yes, _ Nicky says with a kiss, slow and sweet.  _ I’m fine. _

Nicky nods when Joe tentatively brushes his fingers against the hem of Nicky’s shirt, lifting it up and over Nicky’s head. He sighs when Joe traces his delicate hands down Nicky’s chest, over his nipples, across each bump of his ribs. He shivers when Joe slides a hand around his back to run his fingertips along Nicky’s spine. 

Joe’s looking so carefully at each part of his body that he touches, drinking Nicky in like he’s never seen him before. It’s heady, having Joe’s attention on him like this. Nicky feels slow and warm and safe, so safe. Joe pushes gently at the waistband of Nicky’s work jeans. Nicky nods and reaches out to do the same to Joe’s sweats. 

They’re both half-hard by the time they’re fully naked, but the arousal feels far away and unimportant. It’s so different to how they usually are together, how the sparks between them burst so quickly into flame. Tonight Nicky wants to be an ember, burning low and slow.

Joe turns on the shower, making sure the water temperature is just right before he steps into the stream, waiting patiently for Nicky to join him. It’s not really big enough for two people, especially two men of their size, but this way Nicky gets to press against Joe and his warm, wet skin.

Joe reaches for the shampoo first so Nicky grabs a bar of soap, lathering it in his hands while Joe works the shampoo into Nicky’s hair. Nicky hums as Joe massages his scalp, closing his eyes and forgetting about the soap for a while. Joe presses gently on his neck to get him to bend forward to rinse the shampoo, putting him in close proximity with Joe’s chest. 

Nicky leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to Joe’s pec, laving at the rivulets of water running down. Joe grunts and lets him. When Nicky’s had his fill, he leans up and nips at Joe’s earlobe, telling him how gorgeous his skin is, how perfectly, beautifully brown. Joe shivers despite the warm water and pulls Nicky in for a kiss.

They wash each other carefully and gently, and Nicky has never felt more cherished, more adored. They’re both hard by the time Joe’s soapy hand caresses Nicky’s ass to wash it, arousal rising and pooling between them like the tide. Nicky holds Joe’s gaze as he directs Joe’s soapy fingers down between his cheeks, Joe’s eyelids fluttering when the pads of his fingers brush across Nicky’s entrance.

Joe raises his eyebrow, asking without words. Nicky nods and leans in to kiss his soft, warm lips. Nicky shudders when Joe presses against him more firmly, his fingertip making maddeningly slow circles around his rim. Nicky leans his head forward so he can mouth at Joe’s collarbone. Joe shifts so his thigh is pushing against Nicky’s erection, just enough to tease. 

It’s good, it’s so good, like it always is with Joe.

“Please,” Nicky sighs when Joe barely slips his finger inside. “Please.” He’s not even sure what he’s asking for, really, but Joe seems to understand anyway. He kisses Nicky and reaches around him to shut off the water. His curls are heavy and wet and look adorable all flattened down from the water. Nicky reaches up to wrap one around his little finger and tugs it down, giggling when it splashes water on Joe’s face as it springs back into place. Joe laughs too and kisses Nicky again before shooing him out of the shower.

Joe takes his time drying Nicky off with a soft, plush towel, stopping frequently to kiss his pink, water-warmed skin. Nicky tries to return the favor, but Joe shakes his head and dries himself quickly, throwing his towel on the floor when he’s done. Normally Nicky would rolls his eyes and tease Joe for the bad habit, but tonight he couldn’t give a fuck. His head feels thick but light, arousal coursing through his veins, slow and heavy like molasses.

He wants to feel Joe inside him.

His balls are throbbing to the beat of his heart by the time Joe pulls him down into bed and onto his lap, how they usually do it when Nicky wants Joe to fuck him. Nicky rolls off Joe and onto his back instead and spreads his legs wide in invitation. Joe’s eyes darken as he looks up to Nicky to make sure. 

“I want to feel you, Joe,” Nicky tells him, “over me, around me, inside of me.”

Joe shudders and leans down for a kiss. “Anything for you, habibi.” Nicky isn’t sure what that word means, exactly, but he loves the way it sounds when Joe says it so sweetly. 

Nicky whimpers and moans as Joe takes his time opening him up, sighing when Joe finally deems him ready and slowly slides inside. He’s gentle as he works his way deeper in deliciously slow thrusts. He leans down onto his forearms so he can kiss Nicky again and again, and Nicky lets him, wants him to, wants everything Joe will give him. 

Nicky’s arousal is spooling low in his belly, coiling tighter and tighter with every gentle thrust, every soft moan, every butterfly kiss. Joe’s whispering to him now, beautiful words of praise and devotion that flutter inside his chest and buzz under his skin. He wraps his arms around Joe’s shoulders and tilts his head back so Joe can mouth at his throat.

Joe’s beautiful like this, so beautiful, his face full of wonder as he pushes himself up so he can gaze down lovingly. “Nicolò,” he moans, his voice thick with arousal. The sound of his full name spilling from those plush lips makes Nicky shudder and squirm. He clenches around Joe’s glorious cock, and he sees stars when Joe slides across that perfect spot inside him.

“Yusuf,” Nicky breathes, loving the way it rolls off his tongue.

“Yes, Nicolò, please, say it again,” Joe pleads, his thrusts deeper and sharper now.

Nicky pulls him in for a kiss. “Yusuf,” he whispers against reddened lips. “Yusuf,” he moans to the air, head thrown back as he hurtles towards the precipice. “Yusuf!” he cries as he comes, spilling between their bellies, again and again and again. 

The force of his pleasure, the feeling of Joe surrounding him, engulfing him, makes Nicky feel buoyant. He lets himself drift and float away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe grew up in Tunisia, and his parents suspected he was gay starting in his early teens. They then changed their behavior somewhat and were not as openly loving but weren't hostile either, instead focusing on teaching him all the aspects of running a bakery, the family business. When Joe is 16, his family takes a vacation, and Joe is caught kissing a boy. A few weeks after they get home, his parents sit him down and give him his passport, a plane ticket, and some money and send him to live with his Aunt in France who married a Frenchman and agreed to take Joe in. Joe has very conflicted feelings about this. He hasn't spoken to his family since he left Tunisia.
> 
> This section of the story had a sensitivity reader.


	7. Chapter 7

Joe can’t keep a small smile off his face at the bakery the next day. After last night, he knows Nicky loves him. Even if Nicky himself doesn’t realize or doesn’t want to admit it. Joe knows. Everything was so intense between them, even though it was also so much sweeter and gentler than sex with Nicky has been up until last night. It’s good with Nicky, it’s always so fucking good, but last night had been incredible. The way Nicky had looked, vulnerable and sweet and...well, love-drunk. He’d looked love-drunk. 

Joe knows he’s looked like that for weeks, maybe months, now. Whenever he looks at Nicky. Or thinks about Nicky. Nile’s rolled her eyes at him enough times for him to get the picture. 

“Oh, wow,” she says to him now as she comes into work for the day. “Looks like someone had a  _ very  _ good evening.”

Joe beams at her and wiggles a little bit, and true to form, she rolls her eyes and laughs at him. 

Joe’s fizzy mood lasts an entire day before the reality of their situation comes crashing down on him again. Booker is bussing the table as Nicky and Agnese are getting up to leave after their morning visit, and he asks Nicky if he’s stopping by in the afternoon today. 

“No,” Nicky says, shaking his head as his eyes flick over to Joe before settling back on Booker. “I’m almost done prepping the flat for painting, and I want to get the whole place repainted before I leave in a few weeks. Lot of work left to be done.”

Booker grimaces and glances apologetically at Joe. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then!” Joe says brightly, waving as Nicky and his Nonna walk out the door. Nicky turns back, a concerned look on his face. Joe smiles tightly at him.  _ Tonight? _ Nicky mouths, and Joe nods, escaping to the back office when Nicky finally leaves. 

He sits at the desk and slumps onto it, head pillowed on crossed arms. What is he doing?! He loves Nicky, and Nicky loves him, but he has a job and a life back in Genoa that he’s returning to. In like three weeks. Joe wants him to stay, desperately, but Nicky has worked hard to get where he is, and he loves his job, loves his friends and colleagues and students. There’s no way Joe could ask him to give all that up to stay with him here in Malta. No matter how much he wants to. He won’t pressure Nicky like that. 

Selfishly, he knows he doesn’t want to hear Nicky say it out loud, how Joe isn’t enough for him to stay. He’s not sure he’d ever stop hearing the words in his head in Nicky’s voice if he did. 

Instead he’ll just lock himself in his office and try to remember to breathe as his heart constricts in his chests and pretend he’s not pulling apart at the seams.  _ Fuck _ , he has no idea how he ever thought he could do this with Nicky and not fall in deeply love with him.

They’re both a little quiet when Nicky comes over, a little unsure. They’re halfway through dinner when Joe huffs at himself. Yes, Nicky is leaving, but he hasn’t left yet. He’s still here. He’s here, in Joe’s flat, looking nervous and beautiful as ever. If he only has a few weeks left with Nicky, he’s going to spend as much time as he can with him, taking advantage of every moment. 

“Come on,” Joe says, heading into the living room to rifle around in a drawer. Nicky follows him, curious about what Joe is up to. “Aha!” Joe exclaims, holding up the deck of cards he was looking for. Nicky tilts his head and waits for Joe to explain what he’s thinking. 

“Have you ever played Egyptian Rat Screw?” Joe asks. 

Nicky frowns a little as he thinks. “I think when I was a teenager, but it’s been years now. I’ve forgotten the rules.”

“It’s better with more people, but I think it’ll be fun anyway. Blanket fort?”

“Yes, please,” Nicky purrs.

Joe laughs and goes over the rules and they start playing. It’s a completely ridiculous game, so they’re both laughing and joking and goading each other until the first time Joe accidentally slaps Nicky’s hand. Nicky gasps and looks up at Joe, an apology on the tip of his tongue until he sees the fire in Nicky’s eyes, sees how blown his pupils are. Joe reaches out slowly, not breaking eye contact, and slaps Nicky’s hand on purpose. 

Nicky sucks in a startled breath and shudders. Joe’s buzzing with arousal now as they stare each other down. Nicky breaks first, his eyes fixed on Joe’s as he slowly crawls over and drapes himself across Joe’s lap.

After, when they’re both breathless and a little sticky, Nicky giggles and leans up on his elbow so he can look down at Joe. 

“So that’s something I didn’t know I was into.”

“Spanking or turning ridiculous card games into sex?”

“I was going to say spanking, but first with the Go Fish incident and now this, I’m beginning to see a pattern.”

“Hmm, I think we’ll have to learn more card games and do some experiments, see if our hypothesis holds.”

“Well, if it’s for science,” Nicky deadpans.

“We’ll have to get a new deck of cards first. I think you came all over this one.”

“A worthwhile sacrifice.”

“Think they make waterproof cards?”

“They probably do.”

“What about jizzproof ones?”

Nicky snorts as he starts laughing. “Imagine the advertising: for all your bedroom strip poker needs!”

“You’ve heard of the king of spades, but how about the jack “off” hearts?”

Nicky snorts again, which sets Joe off, too. God, he’s never laughed this much after sex. Or sometimes during, with Nicky, who makes everything so fun. Joe always feels effervescent when he’s around, light in a way he never has before. He doesn’t want to lose that.

He’s not laughing anymore, and Nicky notices, smile faltering as he gazes down at Joe. Joe’s throat feels tight, and he tries to smile but it goes a little wobbly, so he stops trying. Nicky reaches out with the hand not cradling his head and traces his fingertips over Joe’s lips, his eyelids, his cheeks. He brushes featherlight touches over the small scars on Joe’s face, the thin skin by his eyes that crinkles when he smiles, the freckles all over his face. He saves the freckle on the tip of Joe’s nose for last, smiling as he taps on it gently a few times.

Joe’s chest tightens when Nicky does that, so he pulls Nicky down by his shirt and kisses him. He looks so beautiful in the soft glow of the fairy lights, like he’s been pulled from some old painting and brought to life for Joe to love. He wants to savor this moment, wants to hold it in his heart so he can look back and remember when Nicky was near him, his strong body warm against his. When Nicky told him he was cherished without using a single word. Or maybe he wants to freeze time and live in this moment forever so it never ends. He kisses Nicky again and again, trying to pour his love into them, hoping Nicky can feel it.

Joe decides to take an afternoon off later that week. He packs up a box full of goodies and runs upstairs to change into some ratty clothes he doesn’t mind ruining and walks over to Nonna Agnese’s flat. He and Nicky weren’t supposed to get together tonight, but he knows Nicky has been stressing about getting these repairs finished, so he figured Nicky wouldn’t mind a helper for the rest of the day. 

Agnese is the one who answers the intercom and buzzes him in, hugging him as soon as she opens the door.

“Yusuf, what a lovely surprise!” she tells him as soon as she lets him go.

“I come bearing gifts!” he says, holding up the box from the bakery.

“You’re gift enough, but baked goods never hurt,” she teases. “Come help me put these onto a plate. Nicolò is in my bedroom getting the walls ready to paint, so he can come join us when he’s finished with that.”

“Oh, I actually came to help him work, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course! That’s so thoughtful of you, Yusuf,  _ grazie _ .”

“Did I hear Joe?” Nicky calls out as he emerges from Agnese’s bedroom. He’s all sweaty and covered in plaster dust where it’s stuck to the sweat on his skin. His hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions, and there are smears of spackling on his face. His clothing is a mess. He’s still the most beautiful thing Joe has ever seen.

The smile on Nicky’s face when he sees Joe is Joe’s favorite of all his smiles — the giant, lopsided one that stretches wide across his face and makes him look joyously luminous. Joe smiles back as Nicky makes his way over to him. He’s about to pull Joe in for a kiss when he freezes and jerks back, wide-eyed, and looks at his Nonna. She tsks at him and gestures broadly.

“ _ Cazzo _ , Nicolò, I already know you two are fucking, you think a little kiss is going to what, offend my sensibilities?” Agnese scolds.

Joe chokes on his own saliva, and Agnese laughs at him as she steps closer to pat him on the back. 

“Yusuf, please don’t tell me you thought I was ignorant about what was going on between you two.”

“I suppose I never stopped to think about it,” Joe says honestly, clearing his throat softly.

“Foolish boy,” Agnese teases, patting him on the cheek.

Nicky’s smiling when she steps back, the small quirk of his lips that means he’s fondly amused. Joe rolls his eyes but smiles, too, and then Nicky is stepping into his space and kissing him, which is an excellent idea, Joe thinks.

“I’m here to help,” Joe tells him, “so put me to work, boss.”

Nicky’s eyes darken a little, but before Joe can get him alone and ask him about  _ that _ , Agnese says, “no, pastries first then work. Yusuf brought treats from the bakery, Nicolò, come eat them with me.”

Joe laughs and kisses Nicky once more, a quick peck on his adorable cupid’s bow upper lip. “Who can say no to that?”

“Certainly not me,” Nicky says, following his Nonna into the kitchen.

“Thank you for coming over today, Joe, you helped a lot,” Nicky tells Joe later that evening as he’s walking Joe home. Nicky had insisted he accompany Joe home, and Joe had sort of halfheartedly told him it wasn’t necessary, but he thought it was sweet, so he didn’t argue too hard. Which Nicky could absolutely tell he was doing and smirked the whole time Joe was talking. 

It made Joe wonder just when they’d gotten so good at reading each other.

“You’re welcome, I’m happy I could help. If you want, I can start coming by after work. I won’t be able to get as much done as I did today, but if you think it will be useful, I’d be happy to.”

“Would you mind if I think about that and let you know tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Because I am a little nervous about not finishing everything I wanted to do, but I miss our late-afternoon walks, I must admit.”

“Maybe we can trade off days and one day I’ll come help and the next we can go for a walk.” Joe tries not to sound too excited about this option, but he’s happy to hear Nicky has missed their walks as much as he has. Their time together is rapidly running out, and Joe knew things would change soon, but he thought it wouldn’t be until after Nicky left. Maybe that was naive, but he wants as much of Nicky as he can have.

“I’d like that,” Nicky says, turning to Joe with a wry smile.

Joe gets an idea in bed that night and spends a couple days sending texts to Agnese, talking to Nile and Booker, and organizing everything, but the look of confusion on Nicky’s face when he opens the door Sunday morning to see Joe, Booker, and Nile standing there is worth it.

“What are you doing here?” Nicky asks, causing Agnese to yell at him over his shoulder about his manners.

“Ah, excuse me. Good morning! What are you doing here?” Nicky smirks. Nile laughs when Agnese curses at him as she shoves Nicky out of the way to let their guests into the flat.

“That is no way to greet our helpers, Nicolò,” she scolds. “Please, come in. There’s coffee in the kitchen.” She reaches for the bakery box Booker is holding, and he hands it over, cupping Agnese’s elbow as he accompanies her to the kitchen in search of coffee.

“Is that right? You’re here to help?” Nicky asks, looking between Joe and Nile.

“Joe closed down the bakery for the day, so yeah, we’re here to help. Better take advantage,” Nile tells Nicky.

“You shut down the bakery?” Nicky asks, looking at Joe with the softest look of surprise on his face.

Joe shrugs. “Yeah, well, you needed help. It’s for your Nonna, and we all love her.”

“That and Joe’s paying us our regular wages to be here,” Booker quips from the kitchen.

“Booker!” Joe hisses as Nile walks over to slap him on the arm. “You weren’t supposed to say anything!”

Booker sticks his tongue out at Nile like the unapologetic, grown-ass adult he is. Joe sighs and rolls his eyes before turning back to Nicky. Wow, if he thought Nicky looked soft before, he’s even softer now. His eyes are wide and glossy, his mouth round and open. 

“Joe,” he whispers as he steps closer, cupping Joe’s face with his gorgeous hands. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, leaning in for a kiss. He licks at Joe's lips, so Joe opens his mouth and lets him. They don’t usually do this, kiss so thoroughly in front of everyone else, but if Nicky wants to, Joe’s not going to say no. Nicky hums and deepens the kiss further. Joe grabs Nicky’s hips, wrapping his fingers around them and squeezing.

Nicky pulls away when Nile pointedly clears her throat. His cheeks are flushed adorably. “Oops,” he says, not one bit sorry. Joe laughs and kisses his pink cheeks before pulling him into the kitchen to join everyone else.

The day goes incredibly well. Everyone is in high spirits, and they laugh and joke as they prime and paint. Joe does all the cutting in once they realize he’s incredibly good at it. Booker goes around and fixes a few drawer pulls and interior door knobs, a wobbly table leg. Nile and Nicky paint the walls. Agnese knits and watches them work and tells stories about Nicky as a kid, to everyone’s delight but Nicky’s. They get a ton of work done by the time Agnese calls everyone into the kitchen for dinner, thanking them for coming and helping as she serves the food she cooked them.

They celebrate the day with good food and good wine and good conversation. Joe looks at the people around the table and feels incredibly grateful and happy, his heart swelling with pride. And love. So much love. He feels tears prickling his eyes and blinks them away. Shit, how much wine has he  _ had _ ? It’s making him all emotional.

Nicky’s sitting next to Joe, and he must notice Joe’s gone quiet and introspective because he leans close and asks if Joe’s okay. Joe nods and smiles, because he is. He’s better than okay. He squeezes Nicky’s knee under the table, threading their fingers together when Nicky drops his hand down to cover Joe’s.

They laugh and joke late into the night. Agnese pats Nicky’s cheek before she goes to bed, winking at Joe and telling him to stay the night but not to be too loud. She cackles as Joe drops his head into his hands, her laughter trailing behind her as she shuffles down the hall to her bedroom. Booker and Nile get a taxi not too long after, and then it’s just Nicky and Joe.

Joe clears his throat. “Well, it’s getting late, I guess I should —”

“Stay the night,” Nicky blurts, interrupting him. “If you want, that is.” How this man looks so sweet and adorable asking Joe to stay the night after five months is a mystery, but Joe thinks he’ll never get tired of Nicky’s soft, hopeful smile.

“I’d like that,” Joe says honestly as Nicky’s smile widens.

“Just to sleep, if that’s all right. I know my Nonna said, but I don’t actually want to —”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Truthfully, I’m pretty tired anyway.”

“Okay. Good. Come on, then, let’s get you something to wear.”

Nicky looks sweetly nervous as they get ready for bed. It makes Joe’s stomach flutter pleasantly, makes it easy to pretend this is one of the first nights they’ve spent together like this instead of one of the last. Nicky’s bed is comfortable, and Joe’s more tired than he realized from the day of work. He falls asleep quickly, Nicky’s familiar scent wafting off the sheets and surrounding him.

It takes him a minute to figure out where he is when his alarm goes off a scant few hours later. Nicky’s still asleep beside him, arm flung out across Joe, drooling into his pillow a little. Joe sneaks out from under Nicky’s arm, hoping it doesn’t wake him, gazing down at Nicky for a few moments when it doesn’t. He looks so sweet when he’s sleeping. Joe brushes the hair from Nicky’s forehead and tucks it behind his ear, uses his fingertip to trace the shell then down to his earlobe. Nicky forgot to take his earrings out last night, so Joe touches those, too, the metal smooth and skin-warm. He loves when Nicky wears his earrings. It always feels like Nicky’s adorning himself somehow. It makes Joe happy — Nicky’s beautiful, he should always be adorned.

The light is on in the kitchen when Joe walks out of the small second bedroom where Nicky’s been staying. Frowning, Joe goes to see why. He knows they turned it off before they came to bed last night. Agnese is sitting at the kitchen table when Joe pads in, working a crossword. There’s a fresh cup of coffee and a plate with some fruit and an oven-warmed croissant from the box he brought over yesterday. Agnese doesn’t look up when Joe sits down, but she’s smiling. 

“Thank you for breakfast,” Joe tells her, touched that she got up so early. “You didn’t have to, though, you could have slept. It’s so early.”

“It is, but I don’t mind. Besides, I wanted to talk to you.”

Joe frowns and sips his coffee. It’s good. Strong, a little sweet, with a dash of cream, just how he likes it. He wonders how she knows. “Okay.”

“I’ve so enjoyed having Nicolò around these last months. I don’t think I realized just how much I missed him. He’s been so happy here, you know, despite the circumstances of his visit. That’s because of you and this thing between you. I’ve never seen you happier, either, you know. You smile so much now, Yusuf, like you can’t help yourself, like the happiness is just bursting out of you.

“It made me realize that I’ve thought of you like family for a long time now. Not just a friend or the man at the bakery, Yusuf, but  _ family _ .”

Joe swallows heavily as his throat tightens. “Agnese,” he chokes out.

She tuts at him and reaches out to cover his hand with hers. “That’s Nonna, Yusuf. Family calls me Nonna.”

Family. God, he’s missed hearing that. He knows that he’s cultivated a little family for himself here in Malta, and he loves them all, he truly does. It feels different knowing someone else feels that way about him, though. That Agnese wants him to be her family. That she’s  _ choosing _ him. 

He nods, his whispered “okay, Nonna” bringing a smile to her face. 

“I’m going to miss him when he goes back,” she continues. “I know you will, too. It’s okay to be sad about it, Yusuf, but I don’t want you going through that alone, you hear me? I want you to come for dinner and let me cook for you, and we don’t have to talk about it, not one word, but I want you  _ here _ .”

“Okay, I — okay.”

“Good. You’re already too skinny, I don’t want you getting any worse. All that baking and still you look like this, I don’t understand,” she teases, and Joe barks out a laugh.

“My mother used to say that my brain worked so hard all the time it used up a lot of energy.”

“Mm, that’s a kind way to say you’re an overthinker.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her pat his hand again. “Come, finish your coffee and your breakfast. I don’t want to make you late to the bakery.”

Oh, shit, the bakery! Joe scrambles to do just that as his Nonna — fuck,  _ his Nonna  _ too — laughs and watches him eat. She pulls him in for a hug before sending him on his way. Joe laughs and hugs her back and feels happy the rest of the day whenever he thinks about it.

***

Joe keeps the promise he made to Nicky and comes over to help some evenings after Dough & Joe closes, and others they go walking through Valletta, the December air cool and crisp. There are lights strung overhead across the narrow streets giving off a soft glow. It feels magical, walking in the evenings with Joe, talking about everything and nothing. 

They finish all the flat repairs he wanted to make, and his Nonna invites Joe, Nile, and Booker over for dinner to celebrate and as a sort of farewell party for Nicky. The evening is boisterous and fun. They even bring him gifts, which is sweet and unexpected. Nile gives him a mug that says “Dough & Joe” with a cartoony baguette and steaming cup of coffee on it. Booker gives him a bag of the coffee beans he’s come to love. Joe gives him a small framed sketch of the inside of the bakery. Nicky thumbs the glass over the picture as he tries not to tear up and realizes he never did get around to asking Joe about his art.

And then somehow it’s the day before he leaves.

Nicky thought about spending his last night with his Nonna, but earlier that week she’d told him on no uncertain terms that he was going to Joe’s flat, and that he could say goodbye to her before he left. So that’s what he did.

He’d brought his bags and some takeout for dinner with him to Joe’s flat. Joe had taken one look at the bags before carefully taking the food from Nicky’s hand, excusing himself as he escaped to the kitchen. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, hastily but not thoroughly brushed away, when he’d brought back two plates of food and set them down at the table. 

Now here they are, sitting together, eating dinner in silence because neither of them knows what to say to the other. Joe looks like he might burst into tears at any moment. Nicky feels like there’s a rock in his stomach weighing him down. This really isn’t what he wants their last night to be like. He keeps opening his mouth to say something, but everything he thinks to say sounds so stupid he just shuts it again.

Joe’s curling in on himself now as he eats, his shoulders rising higher and higher. He looks miserable. 

“I met a sloth once,” Nicky blurts as Joe’s raising a bite of paneer tikka to his mouth. 

Joe puts the stick back down on his plate and looks at Nicky, head tilted in confusion. He smiles wryly just before he says, “like at a party or…”

Nicky snorts. “No, not at a party.”

“How does one meet a sloth, then?” Joe folds his arms across his chest and tries to hold back a smile as he waits for Nicky’s answer. 

“It was at an aviary.”

“An aviary. Doesn't an aviary have birds?”

“Yes. And sloths, apparently.”

“Clearly.” Joe coughs to cover a laugh. He looks so much better than he did just moments earlier. Nicky grins at him but rolls his eyes too, just to show Joe he’s being a little shit.

“So yes, I went to the aviary and met the sloth. Her name was Vivian. I got to feed her and pet her. Her fur was incredibly soft, I was really surprised.”

“Yeah, because they look kind of coarse.”

“Don’t they? But no, they’re very soft. And completely adorable, Joe, with their little eyes and cute smiles and big, wet noses.”

“I didn’t take you for such an animal lover,” Joe chuckles.

“Not more than the average person, maybe, but this sloth. She was something else.” 

Joe is looking at him so fondly now that Nicky can’t help but grin. “You’re really fucking cute, you know that?” Joe tells him.

“Damn, and here I was going for devastatingly smart and handsome.”

“Well, that too.”

Nicky smiles and bats his eyelashes. “Flatterer.”

Joe laughs and shakes his head, and they start talking about something else, awkward silence well and truly broken.

After dinner, Nicky carries some dishes over to Joe, who’s cleaning up at the sink, and kisses the back of Joe’s neck as he reaches around him to set the dirty dishes into the sink. Joe hums and turns around in Nicky’s arms to pull him in for a kiss with a soapy hand. Nicky squawks but lets him, laughing when Joe starts smiling against his lips. 

“How does a fort sound?” Nicky asks, hoping Joe will say yes. He’s going to miss their blanket forts when he’s home, how safe the forts make him feel, like he can say anything without fear of judgment. Like he can be his most authentic self. 

“If that’s what you want,” Joe tells him.

“What do you want, Joe?” Nicky asks, because that didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

“We can do a fort. Will you come to bed with me after, though? I still have work tomorrow and have to get up, I’d rather not sleep in the fort all night.”

“Of course. I’d like that.”

Joe kisses his nose and pushes him back a little so he can turn around again and finish the dishes. 

“Besides,” Nicky continues, “we never got around to strip poker. I want to kick your ass at that tonight.”

“Oh, you are  _ on _ !”

Joe, as it turns out, has a  _ terrible _ poker face and ends up in only his underwear and socks before Nicky’s even taken off any of his clothes, but that proves so distracting that Nicky ends up losing anyway, not that he minds. All that beautiful brown  _ skin. _

“I have no idea what the fuck just happened,” Nicky grouses, just to make Joe laugh. He does, and then he has an excellent idea and crawls into Nicky’s lap. Nicky grunts as Joe settles, grinding down as he wraps his arms around Nicky’s shoulders. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, pink lips turned down into an exaggerated pout. “If only there were some way I could make it up to you.”

Nicky chuckles and leans in to nip at Joe’s bottom lip, sneaking his hands down the back of Joe’s underwear and grabbing that perfect ass. “I can think of a few ways.”

Joe laughs and kisses him again. “I bet you can, but I’d rather you show me.”

Nicky growls and bites playfully at Joe’s neck and proceeds to do just that. 

They go to bed after, sleepy and sated. Joe’s bed is so comfortable, and Joe himself is a solid line against his back, pressed in tight. Nicky runs hot, but Joe runs cold, so he always tucks in extra close now that the weather is cooler, like Nicky is his personal bedtime heater. It’s adorable. Nicky’s going to miss it.

Nicky’s almost asleep when he hears Joe start whispering against his neck. 

“I love you,” Joe admits, sighing to himself. “Fuck, it feels good to finally say that out loud.” 

Nicky’s heart starts beating wildly in his chest. He forces his breathing to stay calm and even.  _ Cazzo _ , Joe thinks he’s asleep.

“I love you so much. In the mornings when I’m turning croissant dough, I let myself imagine what it would be like if you stayed here with me, and we made a life together. I’ve never wanted that with anyone before. I do with you. I want it so bad it makes me choke.

“But I won’t ask. I know you have a life in Genoa, a job that you love and friends that you love. I know how hard it is to lose that stability, to have to start over. I won’t do that to you.

“It doesn’t feel fair somehow, that I’ve found you, found this, only to lose it. I don’t see a way forward, though, which means it has to end. And if it has to end, then I need you to know that I love you, Nicky.” 

Nicky tenses up and inhales sharply when Joe says his name, which makes Joe freeze behind him. 

“Nicky?” Joe says. Nicky’s never heard him sound so panicked or so small. 

Nicky moves Joe’s arms off his chest, and Joe makes a little wounded sound, but Nicky shushes him gently as he rolls over so he can look at Joe. Beautiful, wonderful Joe, whose eyes are squeezed shut, whose face is pained. 

“Hey,” Nicky whispers as he traces the crinkles by Joe’s eyes, the furrows between his brows. Joe’s expression eases but he doesn’t open his eyes. 

Nicky kisses the freckle on the tip of Joe’s nose that he’s going to desperately miss. 

“Joe, I…” Joe opens his eyes now, the look on his face so vulnerable and hopeful that Nicky’s heart clenches in his chest. 

_ I love you _ , he can’t say, can’t force past his lips.  _ God, but I love you. _

He surges forward and kisses Joe instead, trying to use his lips, his hands, his body, to show Joe everything his mouth can’t say. Joe seems to understand and lets him, lets Nicky take him apart slowly with whispered praise and breathless moans, with gentle caresses and slow thrusts. Lets Nicky put him back together so he can take Nicky apart instead, again and again and again. 

They’re wrapped around each other, limbs entwined, like they have been all night in between rounds of lovemaking. Nicky’s thumbing away the tears leaking from the corner of Joe’s eyes when his alarm goes off. Joe grunts and moves away from Nicky. He grabs his phone from the nightstand and swipes at it to stop the alarm, collapsing back onto Nicky with an unhappy grunt..

“When do you need to leave for the airport?” Joe asks, his words muffled since he’s buried his face into Nicky’s chest.

Nicky starts carding his fingers through Joe’s hair. He doesn’t know how many more times he’ll get to do this, get to feel the soft curls thread through his fingers, tickling the sensitive skin between his fingers. “8:00.”

“Are you taking the bus or a taxi?”

“Taxi. It’s quicker, means I can…”  _ spend more time with you,  _ Nicky doesn’t say, but from the look on Joe’s face, he understands.

Joe makes a cute little sound as he rolls over and stretches, trying to work some blood into his muscles. “Come on. Shower, breakfast, and then you can come down and help me in the bakery.”

“Mm, that all sounds nice,” Nicky quips, trailing his hand down the broad expanse of Joe’s back to palm at his ass.

“Insatiable,” Joe chuckles as he bats Nicky’s hand away playfully. He rolls out of bed and starts walking toward the bathroom, hips swiveling in the scant moonlight. Nicky growls and jumps out of bed after him, laughing when Joe yelps.

Nicky washes himself quickly so he can spend the rest of the shower on his knees sucking Joe off. Joe was right, he does feel insatiable this morning, just as he had last night. He always feels hungry for Joe when they’re together, but it’s never been this sharp, vicious thing in his belly, this clawing need that’s never satisfied. 

He moans when Joe comes down his throat, stroking himself to orgasm moments later. He sighs as Joe’s softening cock slips from his mouth and leans his head against Joe’s thigh, panting as he comes down. Joe starts scritching Nicky’s head with the hand still resting there. It feels so unbelievably good. Nicky wishes he could freeze time and live in this moment forever.

His knees, though, clearly don’t agree.

Nicky bitches about his knees when he stands up, which makes Joe laugh, and pulls him in for a kiss, his lips warm and wet from the shower spray. Scratch that: this is the moment Nicky wishes he could freeze and live in forever.

Joe lets him oil his beard after they’re out of the shower and dried off, and Nicky lets Joe shave him, and they’re both so turned on by the end of  _ that  _ that Nicky goes easily when Joe bends him over the bathroom counter and eats him out until he screams.

“What time do you usually start working for the day?” Nicky asks when they finally get down to Dough & Joe. Joe shrugs as he starts flipping on the lights in the kitchen.

“5:00,” he says. Nicky looks at the clock on the kitchen wall that currently says 5:37. Joe shrugs again. “Worth it. Besides, you can help me prep some things, make up the time.”

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” Nicky tells him truthfully.

Joe’s an excellent teacher. He explains what he’s doing as he does it before letting Nicky try, watching Nicky as he measures and mixes ingredients, a little smile on his face. He doesn’t seem to mind when he forms three ghraybeh to every one Nicky makes.

Joe has Nicky start mixing up filling for the makroud while he starts mixing dough for some baguettes. 

“When do you decide to make baguettes? I haven’t seen them every day,” Nicky asks, suddenly curious about the menus Joe comes up with. He’s never really stopped to think about it before. 

“They don’t sell as well in the winter for whatever reason,” Joe tells him as he pours flour into a large bowl. “Maybe it’s because people around here like to use them for summer sandwiches, I don’t know. But today I feel like making them, so. Just a small batch, though. Otherwise I would use the big mixer.”

He tilts his head toward the back of the kitchen to where an industrial mixer sits, waiting to be used. It looks complicated and intimidating. “You don’t need to use that today?” Nicky asks, hoping the answer is no. It also looks loud, and he doesn’t want the noise between them this morning.

“No, not today,” Joe answers simply as he covers the bowl with a cloth and sets it aside. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a different dough.

“What’s that?”

“Croissants. These are always great sellers, so I make them every day, though they’re a pain in the ass. Well. Not so much for me because I’ve been making them so long, but. There’s a steep learning curve, and it’s easy to mess them up at first.”

“So I’m guessing you don’t need my help with those,” Nicky jokes.

“Ah, not so much, no. Feel free to watch, if you want, though.”

So Nicky does. He watches the way Joe moves effortlessly in his kitchen, how the muscles in his forearms flex, how his nimble fingers delicately cut the croissant dough into triangles before wrapping it into the traditional shape. He’s gorgeous like this, in his element, flour lightly dusting the hair on his forearms like blades of grass under a light snow.

He smiles when he catches Nicky watching him, and it lights up his face like it always does.

Nicky lets his mind wander a bit as he watches Joe, lets himself think about what it would be like if Joe came back with him to Genoa, how easily he would slot into Nicky’s life. His flat back home is big enough for two people, though there isn’t as much natural light as Joe’s flat here. The kitchen is bigger, though. He’d like that. Nicky could take Joe to all his favorite places around the city, show him around campus, lock the door to his office and defile his desk. They could eat dinner at the little restaurant down the street that makes the best burrida he’s ever eaten. Maybe they could take a day trip to Camogli one hot summer day and wander around the town, head to the rocky beach for a swim when the afternoon sun gets hot.

He can see it so clearly it makes him ache. It makes him want to ask.

But...Joe would have to sell Dough & Joe, leave his friends behind. When Nicky went into work, Joe would be home by himself, alone in a new country. He’d have to start over. He’s already had to do it twice. Nicky can’t ask him to do it again. He  _ can’t. _

He bites his tongue and watches Joe instead.

Joe smirks whenever he catches Nicky looking at him. One time he pinches a little flour between his fingers and throws it at Nicky, catching him square in the face. Nicky sputters as Joe laughs. He steps in front of Joe and cups Joe’s face in his hands tenderly before leaning in as if to kiss him. Joe goes pliant in his hands, which is his mistake because instead of kissing him, Nicky holds Joe’s face still as he rubs their cheeks together, wiping off the flour on Joe’s face instead.

Joe’s resulting squawk is so indignant Nicky has to laugh. It turns into a yelp when Joe reaches up to poke at Nicky’s ribs where he knows Nicky’s most ticklish. Nicky glares at him but Joe just beams that wide, sunshine smile of his, and Nicky melts. He reaches up and brushes away the flour on Joe’s cheek. Joe closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” Nicky whispers against Joe’s lips, and Joe kisses him, deep and fierce, and Nicky feels dizzy with it. Their kisses grow more and more desperate, like they can feel the seconds slipping through their grasp. Joe feels so good in his arms, so right. He wants — he just  _ wants _ . He wants this, he wants Joe, he wants —

Joe gasps and pulls back when Nicky’s phone dings. Nicky reaches into his pocket and digs out his phone. It’s 7:59, and the taxi is waiting outside. 

Nicky swallows heavily. He suddenly feels so small. “My taxi is here.”

“No,” Joe whispers, voice wobbly.

“Joe, I —” 

Joe silences him with another kiss, this one sweet and gentle. A goodbye kiss. He presses their foreheads together as they just breathe for a moment.

Nicky pulls back to look at Joe.

“I’m going to miss…” Joe starts, stopping himself with a shake of his head.

“Me too,” Nicky tells him.

Joe smiles tightly and swallows. “Text me when you get in, okay? So I know you made it home?” His voice cracks on the word home.

“I will.”

Joe nods and steps back. He starts fiddling with the croissants again. His hands are shaking.

Nicky feels something crack open in his chest, but he forces himself to leave the kitchen. He nods to Booker where he’s standing behind the coffee bar setting up his machines for the day, a silent thanks for not disturbing them when he arrived. Nicky collects his bags by the front door where he left them when they came downstairs this morning. He opens the door and looks back for one last glimpse of Joe. 

Joe’s standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the front part of the bakery, with tears in his eyes and a sad smile on his face. Nicky’s smile wobbles as his own tears pool in his eyes. He swallows against the ache in his throat as he turns away to walk out of the bakery.

Once when he was five, his parents took Nicky to a little villa for a week, just the three of them. They cooked food outside over an open fire, explored the nearby village, and waded in the stream on the edge of the property. They found a swimming hole a ways upstream and spent one hot, sunny afternoon there, splashing around and teaching Nicky how to swim. 

His foot got caught on a rock on the bottom of the stream, and it took his parents just a moment too long to notice he hadn’t poked his head up in a while. He almost drowned before they managed to pull him to the shore and press air back into his lungs.

Leaving Joe feels exactly the same.


	8. Chapter 8

Joe rolls over onto his back after he silences his alarm. He sighs and drapes an arm over his eyes, not to block out any light because there isn’t any at this hour, but to block out the world. It doesn’t work, of course. It never does. It’s quiet this early in the morning, like it always is. Like he used to love. 

Now the silence hangs in the air like a shroud.

His breakfast is perfunctory, his coffee bland. Nothing seems to taste good anymore, not since...Well. Since.

The only thing about the morning Joe still likes is staring up at the stars. He isn’t sleeping so well these days, isn’t snoozing his alarm anymore, so he has more time to spend gazing up at them. Now it’s not just his father he's hoping is impossibly looking at the same early-morning sky — now it’s Nicky, too. Nicky with his big eyes and bigger nose and ridiculous, lopsided smile. Maybe he doesn’t care that getting up so early will darken the already dark circles under his eyes. Maybe he’s doing it anyway. Joe highly doubts it.

Still. He gazes up at the sky and hopes.

Preparing the bakery for the day is a nice distraction. He can fall into old rhythms and turn his brain off and daydream. Most days he dreams up wild scenarios about Nicky and himself in different lives, meeting in all sorts of different ways, but always,  _ always, _ falling in love and staying together.

Some days, though, his dreams are a little smaller. He daydreams that Nicky is still upstairs in his — no,  _ their _ bed — sleep-warm and grumpy from being woken up so early. Joe would laugh and kiss the corner of Nicky’s frowning mouth and tell him to go back to sleep. Nicky would grumble and flop onto his belly and listen. He’d come downstairs a couple hours later, before the bakery opens for the day, hair a mess, eyes barely open. He’d be wearing his sleep t-shirt and boxer briefs and a robe he never bothers to tie. 

He’d be sleepy and adorable and all Joe’s.

He’d grumble again when Joe laughed at him and press himself against Joe’s back as he worked, just leaning against him with his eyes closed, holding Joe tightly because he missed his warmth. Joe would finish what he was working on and turn around in Nicky’s arms and kiss him sweetly. Nicky would smile and Joe would be so in love.

Those are the daydreams that send Joe back up to his apartment once Nile starts her shift so he can burrow under his covers for an hour and hide from the world.

It takes three weeks for Joe to stop looking for Nicky when Nonna Agnese comes into the bakery in the morning. She very graciously never mentions the disappointed look that flashes across Joe’s face when he sees she’s alone. Instead she reaches her hand out to clasp his and squeezes it until Joe smiles at her, brittle and brief. If there’s another customer, she lets him get back to work, but if there isn’t, she pulls him down to sit across from her and gossips about anything and everything just to take Joe’s mind off things for a little while. 

Nile and Booker try their best, too, and he appreciates their efforts, he does. Nile bitches about her thesis and how she’s stuck, lets Joe brainstorm ideas with her. He knows she doesn’t actually need his help. She’s one of the brightest people he’s ever met, and anyway, he knows nothing about her thesis topic or at least not more than her advisor, who she meets with weekly. But it’s nice to focus on someone else’s problems, even if they are made up for his benefit. 

Booker comes over more often in the evenings and will turn on a football match if there’s one on, which there almost always is. If there isn’t, he’ll stream one from his phone. Joe can tell he wants to talk about Nicky, but it’s only been a month. It still feels too raw. So Joe bitches about the players and Booker will sigh but join in. 

Nonna Agnese invites the three of them to dinner one night about five weeks after Nicky leaves, and Joe wants to beg off but doesn’t. He knows the invitation was more like a summons and anyway, he’s been putting this off long enough now. Time to let them ask their questions. 

Nonna Agnese pulls him into a hug as soon as he walks through the door, and he stumbles a bit because he wasn’t expecting it. She’s so much shorter than him he has to really lean down to hug her properly, and he’s a little worried he’s going to topple them both over before he regains his footing. She just chuckles at him and squeezes him tighter. 

Joe startles when he feels someone gently taking the bakery box out of his hand. Nile’s smiling softly at him when he looks up to see who it is. He didn’t realize she was already there. She sets the box down on the coffee table and steps back over, eyebrows raised in a question as she flicks her gaze between him and Agnese. Joe nods at her though he’s not entirely sure what she’s asking. She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile widens so she must not actually be annoyed. She steps closer and opens her arms, and then she’s hugging him and Nonna Agnese both.

Joe tenses. Nile is his employee, she’s like a sister to him, she shouldn’t have to comfort him like this. But... _ fuck _ , it feels so good to be held like this. He hasn’t really been touched since Nicky left, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it. Booker makes his way to Joe’s other side, and then he’s wrapping his arms around the group, squeezing tight, and Joe...Joe chokes out a sob before he even realizes he was upset. And then another. By the third, it’s impossible to stop, so he doesn’t bother. He lets his friends hold him together as he shudders apart.

He tries to thank everyone once he stops crying, but no one lets him. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Nonna Agnese says, so Joe lets it drop.

The thing is, though. The thing is, he hasn’t really cried since Nicky left. He hasn’t let himself. He’s tried to hold it in and keep it together, has told himself that it’s his own fault for getting too involved with someone he knew was leaving. So being able to let go like that, surrounded by people who care about him, feels incredibly cathartic. He feels lighter than he has in weeks. He feels ready to sit at the table and listen to his friends tell him they told him so.

“All right,” Joe says now that everyone is sitting at the table eating the dinner Nonna Agnese made them. “Out with it.”

“Uh…” Booker says intelligently as he glances at Nile, who just shrugs in confusion.

“I know you want to tell me you told me so, so just get it over with.”

“Joe, no one wants to say that,” Nile tells him.

“I do a little bit — ouch!” Booker admits, drawing a slap on the arm from Nile.

“I knew it,” Joe nods, smiling sheepishly at Booker.

“Joe, it’s not your fault. My Nicolò is irresistible, of course you were drawn to him,” Nonna Agnese jokes.

Joe chuckles as he shakes his head. He bites at his lower lip as he works up the courage to tell them just how hard he’d fallen. Sighing, he closes his eyes. “I love him. I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Joe,” Nile sympathizes.

Booker snorts. “Yeah, no shit you’re in love with him — ouch! Stop hitting me!” Booker rubs at his arm where Nile’s swatted him again.

Tension broken, Joe just smiles at them both. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes,” they all say in unison.

“Wow,” Joe deadpans. “I thought I was hiding it better.”

“Well, we’ve known you for years, Joe. We know how to read you. Pretty sure Nicky had no idea,” Nile says.

“He didn’t,” Joe confirms. “Not until I accidentally told him the night before he left.” 

Nile gasps.

“You didn’t,” Booker says, leaning forward like he very much wants Joe to tell that story but doesn’t want to actually ask him to.

“Oh, I did,” Joe says before launching into the story. It feels good to tell them what happened that night — well, not  _ everything _ that happened — but how he thought Nicky was asleep and started spilling his guts. They laugh with him and support him and soon he’s talking about the dates they went on and how much fun they had together and how happy Nicky made him feel. It hurts, it still hurts so much, but sharing it with the people he loves, the people who care so much for him...it helps. More than he expected it to.

“Thank you,” Joe tells them when he’s out of things to say. “This...this really helped.”

Booker and Nile smile softly and nod, but Nonna Agnese reaches out to pat the back of Joe’s hand where it’s resting on the table. “Of course. We’re here for you, Yusuf. We all are.”

Joe smiles tightly. He can feel tears prickling at his eyes, and he really doesn’t want to start crying. Again. Thankfully, Booker notices and changes the subject.

“Have I told you all about my disastrous date last weekend?” Booker asks, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. Joe takes a few sips of water to calm himself down before giving his full attention to Booker. He can’t wait to hear about this date.

Nile approaches him a couple weeks later during the post-lunch lull. She tells Joe about this guy she met at a party Saturday night and how he used to work at a bakery before he moved to Malta, how he’s having a hard time finding a job he likes.

“Maybe he could help you open the place, Joe. Or open for you some days so you can sleep in a little more. Or, heaven forbid, take a couple of days off in a row, maybe even go on a vacation,” Nile says.

“Vacation? What’s that?” Joe teases.

“I’m a little worried you don’t actually know,” Nile fires back.

“How’s your thesis going?” Joe asks, trying to change the subject.

“Don’t try to change the subject!”

Busted.

“All right, all right!” Joe laughs, holding his hands up in defeat. “I’ll look over my books, see if I can hire someone else on.” He already knows he can, he just wants to think about it a while longer. “Do you have his contact information?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, if we can afford to hire him on, then I’ll let you know and you can have him get in touch with me to schedule an interview, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. He’s a nice guy, Joe, I think he would fit in well here.”

“I’m sure he would. I know you wouldn’t suggest someone you wouldn’t want as a coworker.”

“Damn straight,” Nile teases, bumping her shoulder into Joe’s arm.

Joe takes a week to check the books and do his due diligence, but his initial assessment was right — he can definitely afford another worker. Two, if he really wants to. But one new employee works for now. He tells Nile to have her friend get in contact with him to set up an interview, and before he knows it, there’s a young Black man named Lykon sitting in his office, nervously bouncing his leg as Joe looks through his résumé. It’s a fine résumé. Maybe not as experienced as Joe would have liked, but really, baking can be taught. The desire to work the early hours, the right attitude — those are more important than technical skill.

“So, Lykon,” Joe starts, setting down Lykon’s résumé. Lykon sits up straighter and rests his hand on his leg to try and stop it from bouncing. Joe finds himself feeling a little fond of Lykon already. “Tell me about the bakery you used to work at.”

“Oh, man, okay,” Lykon starts before telling Joe all about the atmosphere of the place, how the baking itself always made him feel so much calmer, how he’s always been an extremely early riser and loved being able to use that to his advantage, how he loves the confluence of science and mystery that is baking bread, how he loves experimenting with flavor and texture, how much fun it was to have regulars who used to come in to buy a pastry and chat. He talks with such enthusiasm and such joy. Joe thinks he’s going to fit right in.

“Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen, take a tour of the place? We can talk a little about recipes and the menu, see what you have experience baking,” Joe tells Lykon when he’s finished talking.

“Yeah, that sounds great!”

Predictably, Lykon has never made most of the Tunisian recipes Joe makes, but he has done baklava, and baguettes, and, most importantly, croissants. He asks really good questions about the other recipes, about whether Joe rotates menu items, all sorts of things. His enthusiasm is infectious. Joe finds himself smiling more than he has in weeks. Longer, even. Since Nicky left.

Joe takes him to the front of the shop to meet Booker and say hello to Nile. Booker asks Lykon if he’d like a coffee, and Lykon sighs in relief, saying he was too nervous to have any before he came to the interview and that he’s dying for some caffeine, so Booker motions him over to the coffee bar and starts asking Lykon questions about himself and what he wants to drink.

“So, how’s the interview going?” Nile asks, settling in next to Joe where he’s leaning against the counter.

“Great. I’m definitely going to hire him, I just haven’t told him yet.”

“I knew he’d be good here.”

“You did. I’ll give you a finder’s fee.”

“You don’t have to do that, come on.”

“So you  _ don’t _ want an extra $200 in your paycheck this week?”

“I didn’t say  _ that _ ,” Nile quips, and Joe laughs. Nile goes quiet by Joe’s side as she watches Booker make coffee and laugh at something Lykon is saying. “It’s going to be hard to leave here when I graduate,” Nile says, quiet enough that Joe almost doesn’t catch it.

Joe hums in agreement. “You’re welcome here whenever you want, for as long as you want. You’ll always have a place here, Nile.”

Nile bumps against Joe and smiles. “Thanks, Joe.” Joe beams at her before turning back to watch Booker and Lykon.

Lykon turns out to be a perfect fit for Dough & Joe, and Joe really enjoys their mornings together as he teaches Lykon his recipes. Not only is Lykon kind and exuberant and an excellent student, he’s a good baker with great instincts. He asks good questions and takes notes, and Joe’s surprised to find himself laughing so much, like the ache in his chest has been lessened.

It’s also an excellent distraction so he isn’t thinking about Nicky all morning. Now he just thinks about Nicky all afternoon and all evening.

The weather’s changing now that it’s March, a breath of spring on the air. The days are still temperate, the nights chilly, but there’s always been something about spring that Joe loves. Maybe it’s the sense of hope that comes with the passing of winter, or the extra sunshine the lengthening days bring. This year, with spring comes a feeling of restlessness, so Joe starts taking long walks around the city in the afternoons again. It feels good to move, to breathe the fresh air, to try and find all the places he and Nicky found.

Nights, though — nights are the hardest. He tries to keep busy, to find interesting things to watch on TV or good books to read to distract himself, but inevitably his thoughts run to Nicky. Nicky, Nicky, always Nicky. What he’s doing, how his classes are going, if he’s stressed about his book, if he’s happy to spend time with his friends, if he’s dating, if he’s eating enough. If he’s sitting around his own flat at night feeling like a part of him is missing.

Joe goes to bed even earlier now, knowing he’s just going to lie awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling. In the dark, in the safety of his bed, Joe lets himself truly feel the crushing heartbreak, the overwhelming ache of it all. He lets himself feel lonely.

Nothing is the same without Nicky. But life goes on, so Joe goes with it.

***

“Nicky, there’s a package for you at the front desk,” Andy says, popping her head into Nicky’s office to deliver the message.

Nicky looks up from his computer and frowns. He wasn’t expecting any packages, and certainly nothing that was being delivered to work. He stands and follows Andy to the department secretary’s desk in the lobby of their department, wincing a little when he sees how many other professors are milling around the desk. They’re trying to look like they have business with the secretary, but Nicky knows they’re all just as curious about the package as he is. Nicky never receives packages at work, and certainly not ones wrapped in brightly colored paper accompanied by a bouquet of sunflowers.

What the hell?

Nicky wants to take the package and the flowers back to his office, but everyone looks so expectant when he picks up the box that he caves and starts opening it right there, taking the scissors the secretary is holding out for him and breaking through the paper to get at the taped seams of the box underneath.

Inside is a slightly smaller box and a card with his name on it. Nicky’s heart plummets to his stomach when he recognizes the loops and swirls of Joe’s handwriting. He grabs the envelope and stuffs it into his pants pocket, curling it a bit to make it fit. His hands are shaking a little as he pulls out the second box, and sure enough, there’s a sticker on the top with the Dough & Joe logo on it — a script D&J with a croissant and a coffee cup next to each letter, respectively.

He breaks the seal on the box, and his coworkers coo as he reveals piles of baklava and cookies and pastries, all of his favorites that Joe used to bake. Some of the things in the box aren’t even on the menu at the bakery, and that — that’s too much. Nicky can’t breathe suddenly, and he drops the box on the secretary’s desk and excuses himself, fleeing to his office.

He locks the door and sits down at his desk, leaning over so he can rest his face in his hands and breathe, breathe, breathe.

There’s a knock on the door a couple minutes later, and Nicky tells whomever it is to come in.

“My hands are kind of full, here,” he hears Andy say, muffled by the door. Nicky swears and gets up, swiping at his eyes before he opens the door for her. She’s holding the sunflowers, now artfully arranged in a vase she found somewhere, and the bakery box. She sets both down on his desk before flopping down into one of the chairs his students usually sit in when they come to his office to ask questions.

He sighs and sits back down in his chair, taking a deep breath and pointedly ignoring the flowers.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Andy asks in a way that isn’t a question at all.

Nicky sighs and looks down because honestly? He really doesn’t. “It’s from Joe,” he says simply, knowing she’ll understand.

She does. “Oh, Nicky,” she says, her tone so gentle it makes Nicky ball up his fists and press them against his eyes so he doesn’t start crying again.

She and Quynh had come over the evening he got home from Malta, takeout and a bottle of wine in hand. They’d been all smiles and exuberant hugs before they saw Nicky’s unpacked bags by the front door, his airplane-wrinkled clothes he hadn’t changed, how the only lights on in his flat were the ones he’d turned on to come answer the door. The two women had exchanged a worried glance and pulled him into the kitchen, flipping on lights and tutting when they saw the groceries they’d brought over earlier in the day hadn’t been touched.

They made him sit at the table and eat with them, filling him in on everything they did while he was gone. They didn’t ask him one question until after dinner was done, and then Quynh leaned forward and asked, “What happened in Malta, Nicky?”

Nicky sighed and smiled wryly. “I fell in love,” he told them, the only thing that truly mattered. He spent the rest of the evening telling them about Joe and his bakery, how he fell in love with Joe’s sunshine smile and inky eyes, the feel of his curly hair under his fingertips. How Joe’s life is there in Malta and his own life is here in Genoa. How stupid he was to think he could start something with Joe that wouldn’t end in heartbreak. 

How he should have known better.

How he doesn’t regret it.

How it’s been less than a day and he already misses him.

Quynh led him to the couch when he started crying and pulled him close so he could sob on her shoulder. Andy sat down next to him, hesitating before she reached out and started rubbing small circles on his back. 

Once he’d cried himself out, they asked if maybe Joe could move here, or even if Nicky might want to move there, but he’d just shaken his head and said it wouldn’t work, he would never ask Joe to start from scratch like that, not again. He’d ignored the other part of their question, and they didn’t press him. He could tell Andy was sharing A Look over his head with her wife, but they didn’t understand, not really. They had each other, and now all he had were memories.

None of them mentioned Joe’s name again.

Until the bakery box and the sunflowers and the card.

“Why now?” Andy asks, pointing to the box on Nicky’s desk. “It’s been months since you left. Why send something now?”

“My birthday is next week, but he doesn’t know that. And why send it here? Why not my flat?”

“I have no idea. Was there a note or a card or something?”

“Oh, for…” Nicky feels like an idiot as he pulls the card from his pocket where he’d shoved it earlier. “Yeah, there’s a card.” He turns it over in his hands slowly, once, then again.

Andy tracks the motion. “Do you want me to…?”

“No!” Nicky says sharply. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — no, thank you, Andy.”

“Do you want me to leave? I can give you some privacy.”

Nicky sighs in relief. “Yes, please. That would be nice. Wait, take some baklava with you,” he tells her as she stands up.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she jokes, leaning over the box to claim two pieces for herself. “Good luck. I’m free for another hour if you want to find me after you read the card,” she says on her way out the door.

“Thank you, I’ll do that,” Nicky tells her as she closes his office door behind her, leaving him holding Joe’s card. He spins it around three more times before he gets frustrated with himself.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s just a card,” he tells himself out loud. He flips the envelope and opens it carefully. He pulls the card out. There’s a picture of an incredibly adorable cartoon cat on the front wearing a little birthday hat and holding balloons, with a caption that reads “Happy Purr-thday!”

What a dumb fucking card. It’s  _ perfect. _ The cat even has big, dark, round, anime eyes that remind him so much of Joe’s that he bursts into tears.  _ Fuck _ , he’s crying over a cartoon cat now, this is ridiculous. It’s just...he misses Joe so goddamn much he can hardly breathe.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about what it would be like if he quit his job and moved to Malta to be with Joe, because he has. Compulsively. He can’t  _ stop _ thinking about it, is the thing, even when he’s doing all the things in Genoa that he loves, that make him happy. They all feel dull now, like he’s underwater and everything is hazy and muffled. He knows how happy he  _ could _ be, and this...this just isn’t it. Not anymore. Not without Joe.

He picks the card back up, wondering if this is a final goodbye from Joe. They haven’t spoken or texted or anything since a couple weeks after Nicky left. He’d texted to say he arrived home safely, and they’d exchanged a few texts after that, but they were stilted, nothing like how naturally conversation had flowed between them when they were together. They went longer and longer in between replies until they’d both just stopped. It had hurt too much.

And now this. This gift and this card. Nicky takes a deep breath and wills himself to be brave and starts to read.

_ Dearest Nicky, _

_ Nonna asked me to send you a box full of treats for your birthday next week, and I wanted to say no because...well, because I wasn’t sure if you would want them, but then she threatened to pay me to do it, and I caved. She truly can be terrifying when she wants to be. _

_ She tried to give me your home address so I could send the treats there, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to know that, so I looked up your university address and sent it to your office instead. I hope that’s okay with you and I didn’t get you in trouble. _

Nicky pinches the bridge of his nose and puts the card down. God, they haven’t spoken in weeks, and here Joe is, still being thoughtful, still trying to protect him. 

_ I went for a walk the other day in the afternoon. The new guy was working — oh, I hired a new guy. His name is Lykon, you’d like him — and it was a beautiful spring day, so I decided to leave early and walk. I didn’t have a destination in mind, I just let my feet take me wherever they wanted to go. I ended up at the marina, where the big yachts are. Where we had our first  _ —

Joe wrote the word “date” and then tried to scribble it out, but Nicky can still barely make it out under the pen scratches.

—  _ anyway, that marina. There was a huge yacht moored there, just completely over-the-top. Guess what the name was? _ My Other Yacht Is Bigger.  _ Can you believe that?! -500/10 for sheer gall. I told Booker and Nile about it the next day, but they aren’t as good at ranting as you are, so it wasn’t the same. Nothing is the same, not since —  _

Joe tried to scratch out that last bit, too.

_ I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I knew I should have written this on a piece of paper and not on the card itself so I could have thrown it out and started over when I was being too much. Not that you needed to know that, either.  _

Nicky can practically see Joe shaking his head and rolling his eyes at himself here. It’s incredibly endearing and makes Nicky’s heart ache.

_ Anyway, what I’m trying (very inelegantly) to say is Happy Birthday. I hope you have a wonderful day full of laughter and good things. The next time you’re in Valletta to visit Nonna, stop by the bakery and say hi, if you want. I’ll be there. _

_ Yours, _

_ Joe _

Nicky lets himself imagine what Joe described, lets himself imagine going back to Valletta to visit his Nonna and stop by the bakery. It wouldn’t be this summer because Nicky has work to catch up on, but next summer. He imagines going into the bakery and seeing Joe again, seeing him smile and tell Nicky all about what’s happened in his life in the past year and a bit. Maybe they’d go to dinner, spend the night together if they’re both single, have some great sex, and then...and then…

And then Nicky would go home, and he probably wouldn’t come to visit again for a couple years, and by that time Joe would have moved on, and when Nicky came into the bakery he would smile fondly and be glad to see Nicky, but as a friend. Nicky would walk out of the bakery happy he’d stopped by to see a friend, and the next time he came to visit he wouldn’t even bother stopping by. He’d be a lovely, distant memory for Joe and nothing else, as Joe would be for him. They’d practically be strangers again.

Nicky’s stomach roils at the thought, and he has to lean over and take a handful of slow, deep breaths until the wave of nausea passes. He doesn’t want to be a stranger to Joe. He doesn’t want to listen to Joe talk about his life and his bakery and his new love. He wants to  _ be there _ , in Joe’s life, experiencing all that together.  _ He _ wants to be Joe’s love, he wants — 

He wants Joe. He wants to make a life with Joe.

“Oh, fuck,” Nicky whispers. He shoots up from his desk chair, Joe’s card slipping from his fingers to float down to his desk. He needs to go back to Malta. Now. Or...fuck, not now, he has class in an hour, but — but soon. He needs to get to Joe, he needs — shit, he needs to talk to Andy.

He bursts out of his office, apologizing to the graduate student he almost barrels into in his haste. Andy shouts out an “it’s open!” when he knocks on her office door, and he steps inside, closing the door behind him. He feels wild and a little unhinged, which must be plain as day on his face because Andy takes one look at him and says, “what the hell was in that card?”

“I need to go back,” Nicky blurts out, “I need to go back to Joe, Andy, I need — I need to be with him. I love him, I want to be with him. He’s — he’s the one.”

“Fucking  _ finally _ ,” Andy sighs, coming around her desk to pull Nicky into a hug.

“Wait —”

“Quynh and I have been waiting for you to figure it out since you came back,” Andy says, pulling back and motioning toward the chair in front of her desk. She settles into her own chair and waits for Nicky’s brain to catch up.

“Wait. What?” Nicky asks, not quite there yet.

“Oh, Nicky. Of course you have to go back,” she smiles wistfully but fully, and Nicky finds himself choking up because she looks so proud of him.

“Andy, I — I’m going to stay. I’m going to ask him if I can stay.”

“I know. Guess it’s a good thing I already started making inquiries at the University of Malta on your behalf.”

“You did what now?” Nicky asks, completely confused. 

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you realized you wanted to go back. Nicky, you’re miserable here now.” Nicky tries to argue with her, but she holds up a hand to stop him. “I know you still enjoy your time with Quynh and me, but otherwise? You’re a shell of yourself. I don’t want you to stay here out of obligation. Neither does Quynh. Not to us, not to your job. You belong there. You belong with him.”

“I’m going to miss you both, so, so much.”

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. He has to forgive you for leaving first,” she jokes, but the reality of what she’s saying hits Nicky like a car crash.

“Andy…”

“Ah, fuck.”

“Andy, what if he —”

“Stop. Nicky, just stop. He’s going to take you back. He loves you, he wanted you to stay, he’ll be so happy to see you, I was just being an idiot. Don’t listen to me. Besides, if you don’t go, if you don’t find out, you’ll always wonder. This way you’ll know for sure, one way or the other. But he’s going to keep you. He’d be an idiot not to.”

“You’re right. Okay, you’re right.” Nicky takes a deep breath and thinks about how good it’s going to feel to see Joe again, to kiss him and hold him in his arms. To tell Joe how much he loves him. He can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face, and he finds he doesn’t want to.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting, turn that thing off,” Andy teases. “So, if you’re going to live in Valletta, should I get back in touch with the University, see if you can go for an interview?”

“Yeah, yes, please, Andy, that would be amazing. Thank you for doing that, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“You’re a good professor, Nicky, and they were impressed. They’d be lucky to have you. I know you want to go as soon as possible, but I don’t think I can swing anything on such short notice. Is Easter Break okay? That’s in two weeks.”

“That would be perfect, yeah.” Nicky pauses. “I’m really going to do this.”

“Yeah,” Andy grins at him. “You are.”

The two weeks take forever but also somehow fly by, and suddenly he’s on a plane back to Valletta, practicing romantic declarations of love in his head. He’s nervous, so fucking nervous, but also incredibly excited. He’s spent the last two weeks imagining how it might go when he gets to the bakery. Only a third of his imagined scenarios end disastrously, which Nicky thinks isn’t bad, all things considered.

He tries to pass the flight by reading, but he can’t concentrate on the book. He keeps fidgeting, and he can’t stop his knee from bouncing. The woman sitting next to him keeps looking over, and he smiles tightly when he finally meets her eyes. She smiles back sympathetically.

“Nervous flier?” she asks kindly.

“No. Well, not usually. I’m just…” Nicky doesn’t usually open up to strangers, especially not when he’s trapped next to them 30,000 feet in the air, but right now he feels like if he doesn’t talk about Joe he might burst. “I met someone during a long vacation, but I left to go back home, which was a mistake, so I’m coming back to tell him that I love him and want to be together.”

“Oh!” she gasps, laying a hand across her heart. “That’s so romantic! Tell me all about him, I want to know everything.”

Nicky spends the rest of the flight telling the woman all about how he and Joe met, how amazing Joe is, about Joe’s accidental declaration of love, how it took Nicky leaving to realize just how much he wanted to stay.

Before he knows it, the plane is landing in Malta. The woman next to him — Caterina, she said wryly when Nicky paused long enough to ask — grabs his hand and squeezes it. Nicky’s starting to panic again, and she must be able to see it on his face.

“Hey, breathe,” Caterina says. “It’s going to be okay. He loves you. He’s going to be so happy to see you. It’s going to be okay.”

Nicky inhales shakily as he nods. “Yeah, yes. You’re right. Thank you.”

“Go get your man!” she enthuses as Nicky unbuckles his seatbelt and stands up so he can grab his bag from the overhead bin and deplane.

“I will,” Nicky says fiercely and leaves to do just that.

Dough & Joe looks exactly the same when Nicky arrives. Everything feels different now,  _ he _ feels different now, and he isn’t sure why he expected the bakery to be different too, but he did. Standing across the street, looking at the bakery, he realizes it’s not. He changed, but Joe — Joe was a constant who gave his love to Nicky freely and in abundance and asked for nothing in return, not even for Nicky to stay.

Nicky takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and steps into the bakery. Joe isn’t in the front of the bakery, so Nicky inhales slowly and lets the familiar smells inside comfort him. He looks around at the drawings and paintings on the wall to see if Joe’s hung anything new. There’s one new painting, of the back of a man, waist up, as he looks out over the harbor and — oh. Oh, fuck, it’s him. The painting is of  _ him. _ Joe painted him and put him on the wall of his bakery because he wanted him here, near him, with him, in his bakery, in his  _ life.  _ However he could have him.

Joe comes out from the kitchen just then, carrying a tray of fresh makhroud to put into the case. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Joe calls out, and Nicky...Nicky…

His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. His suitcase slips out of his hand and clatters to the ground, his garment bag follows. Joe pops his head up from behind the case at the sound, asking, “is everything —”

He freezes when he sees Nicky. His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“Uhh, Booker, can you help me in the back, please?” Nile asks, and fuck, Nicky didn’t even realize they were in the room. Booker pats Joe on the arm as they go by, but Joe doesn’t even acknowledge them. He only has eyes for Nicky.

“You’re here,” Joe breathes, like he can’t believe it. Like he never thought this would happen. It makes Nicky ache for him.

“I’m here,” he confirms, barely able to get the words past the tightness in his throat.

Joe starts to smile, but it quickly turns to concern. “Is everything okay? Nonna —”

“She’s fine.” God, Nicky  _ burns _ for this man. Confronted with everything he’s ever wanted, and he’s still putting others before himself. It makes Nicky feel bold, so he walks over to the counter and stands in front of Joe. “You painted me.”

“I did. I — yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to forget what it felt like to be with you, to be happy. To be so in love.” Joe shrugs a little as a wistful smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, clearly unsure about where they stand and trying to play down his admission.

Nicky’s heart tumbles over in his chest, and he suddenly can’t stand to see Joe upset for one second longer. “I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you. And God, I — I missed you so much, Joe,” he says gently.

Joe’s dewy eyes go wide. “You did?”

Nicky nods. “I got the birthday package you sent and read your card. You told me to stop by the next time I visited, and I imagined it, coming by in a year or two, catching up. Leaving again and going back to my life, coming to visit my Nonna every few years. We’d see each other so sporadically we’d end up like strangers again, and do you know how that made me feel?”

Joe shakes his head, too overcome to even speak.

“Angry. Nauseous. Heartbroken. I don’t want that to happen, Joe, I don’t want to drift out of your life like that, and I don’t want you to drift out of mine. I want to be with you. I want to live here and make a life together and love you, Joe, because I do. I love you. I love you so much, it feels like I can’t breathe without you.”

Joe’s crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks. Nicky wants to reach out and comfort him, but he’s not sure he’s allowed yet, so he keeps talking.

“Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. I kept seeing things that reminded me of you. I’d turn to tell you something, and each time you weren’t there was like a knife through my ribs. I kept the picture you drew for me in a drawer because it hurt too much to look at, but every once in a while I’d take it out and ache to be near you.

“I’m so sorry, Joe, I’m so — I know I don’t deserve it, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I want to be with you. For real, this time, for good. You’re it for me, Joe, I —”

Nicky gasps as Joe surges forward and grabs onto his shirt so he can haul Nicky halfway over the counter and kiss him. Nicky melts into the kiss and reaches up to cup Joe’s face with one hand as he wraps his other around Joe’s forearm. They kiss until they’re breathless and have to pull apart. Joe huffs a little laugh and leans in to kiss the corner of Nicky’s mouth.

Nicky feels all bubbly inside. “Joe —” he starts before Joe shakes his head and holds up a hand to stop him.

“I’m not going to forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive. Of course I want you here with me, Nicky, of course I do. And If you want to stay, I’m not going to stop you. But what about your job?”

“Ah, about that. I actually have an interview at the University here in Malta tomorrow. Andy, my friend and department head, started making inquiries shortly after I got back and told her I’d fallen in love while I was here.”

“Yeah?” Joe says, voice small and hopeful.

“Yeah. So I, uh, I should go? To the interview? So I can stay?”

“Yes! Fuck, Nicky, yes, go to the interview, get the job,  _ stay with me _ !” Joe beams at him, and Nicky beams back, and then they’re kissing again. Nicky sighs against Joe’s lips and feels something settle in his stomach.

Something like home.

“Son of a bitch!” Joe curses, pulling back. “This stupid counter! Okay, you go get your bags, I’ll get Nile and Booker and have them cover the bakery. Meet me upstairs so we can celebrate properly.”

Joy bubbles up through Nicky’s chest and he laughs, full and free. He turns to grab his luggage so he can follow his love home.


	9. Epilogue

“You’re going to be amazing, babe,” Joe tells Nicky before kissing him firmly on the mouth. 

“Yeah?” Nicky asks, seeing reassurance. 

Gosh, he’s adorable. Joe kisses the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. The University is excited to have you, your students are going to love you, and you know the material inside and out. Besides, it’s just the first day. Let them out of class early and they’ll love you the rest of the semester.”

Nicky rolls his eyes and laughs, just like Joe hoped he would. “You’re right, of course you’re right. I’ll see you this afternoon.” He picks up his leather messenger bag and slings it over his shoulder, stealing one more kiss before he walks toward the door. Fuck, his ass looks amazing in those pants. Booker comes around the counter to hand him a travel mug of coffee with a “good luck!” Nicky lifts it in thanks and heads out of the bakery.

Booker watches Nicky through the window until he turns a corner, looking back at Joe and nodding. 

“Okay,” Joe claps his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

Joe had hardly believed it when Nicky walked into his bakery all those weeks ago, looking vulnerable and hopeful and terrified. Joe’s heart had leapt into his throat, worried that something had happened to Nonna, even though he’d seen her earlier that morning and she’d been fine.

And then...and then...Nicky said he loved him. Nicky said he wanted to  _ stay. _ It was the best day of Joe’s life.

Nicky had nailed his job interview, of course, and the University offered him a job starting the fall semester. His book was going to be published via UniGe’s press, but that was fine, the two schools had negotiated and worked it out.

Once his Easter break was over, Nicky had to go back and finish the semester, and it was awful watching him leave, but this time at least Joe knew when he’d see Nicky again, knew Nicky was coming back. And this time they texted and talked on the phone and on Skype. 

And did other things on Skype.

So all in all, it had been a few short months, and then Nicky was back in Malta for good. The day Nicky returned was one year to the day of their first meeting, and Joe wasn’t sure if Nicky had done that on purpose or not, but he’d built a blanket fort in his apartment anyway and waited for Nicky to come through the door.

Nicky’s face had melted when he saw the fort, tears pooling in his eyes as he strode across the room to kiss the everloving hell out of Joe. And then push Joe into the blanket fort and rail him into oblivion. Joe came three times before Nicky was through with him.

Even better was the morning after, when they woke up together — still in the fort, where they’d fallen asleep, sticky and completely worn out. Nicky had grumbled at the early hour before wrinkling his nose at the mess, and Joe’s heart started thumping in his chest because this...this is what he’d dreamed about. Well, not the  _ mess _ , but Nicky next to him when he woke up, grumpy and rumpled and wonderful. 

And there to stay.

Joe had laughed and kissed Nicky’s nose and pulled him into the shower. Nicky grumbled all through their shower, only stopping to whine and moan as Joe slowly worked him over with his hand, gasping prettily as he came. He started grumbling again as Joe dried him off with a towel and kissed him sweetly and put him back to bed.

Nicky had come down a couple hours later with pillow lines on his face and his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes barely open. He was achingly beautiful, and Joe felt a surge of fondness as Nicky shuffled over to collapse in Joe’s arms, swaying gently as Joe held him and kissed his hair. 

“Don’t let me stop you from working,” Nicky said into Joe’s neck. Joe laughed and kissed Nicky’s temple before turning around to get back to work. Nicky slumped against his back and rested there while Joe worked.

Eventually, Nicky woke up enough to ask what Joe was doing, so Joe started explaining his process, detailing the steps of the recipes. Nicky had listened intently, asking questions here and there before going quiet.

“What?” Joe asked, looking up at Nicky to see what was wrong. Except nothing was wrong. Nicky was staring at Joe, his face full of love.

“I just can’t believe I get to have this, have  _ you _ ,” Nicky whispered, awe in his voice. Joe had melted like the butter in one of his croissants.

They spent the rest of the summer figuring out how they wanted to combine their lives, (way more bookshelves for Nicky’s books, another dresser for his clothes, but Joe’s bed and couch were much more comfortable) their finances, (separate accounts mainly, though a shared vacation account and possibly a shared retirement fund in the future) and the apartment (Nicky’s name was added to the lease and he insisted on paying half the rent, making it  _ their _ apartment.)

Nicky’s friends Andy and Quynh had come to visit in late July for a week, and by then Joe trusted Lykon enough to open the bakery by himself, so he’d taken a couple days off and had played tour guide for all three of them. Andy and Quynh were incredibly fun to be around once Joe realized Andy wasn’t as intimidating as she seemed. And after they got the shovel talk out of the way. Joe told them he wasn’t planning on doing anything to hurt Nicky  _ ever _ , but that he was happy Nicky had people he could turn to in case something did go wrong in their relationship and he needed a place to land. Quynh had smiled and Andy had nodded, and that had been that.

August was full of meetings for Nicky, and setting up his new office, getting to know his new colleagues, and a couple faculty dinners and parties. Joe wasn’t sure how Nicky would want to handle those, but he’d asked Joe to come and had introduced Joe as his partner, which made him feel giddy and still does when he thinks about it.

And now it’s Nicky’s first day of classes, and Joe has a cake to bake and decorate.

***

“Professor DiGenova!” Nicky hears as he’s almost to the door of his new department. He pauses and turns to see Ylenia, the department secretary, holding out a tin as she walks over to him.

“Please, Nicky is fine,” he reminds her as he takes the tin. Joe sent him to school that morning with a full tin of goodies from the bakery for his colleagues to enjoy, because of course he did.

“Nicky, sorry,” she apologizes. “Thanks for bringing in the baked goods, they were delicious, everyone loved them. Did you make them yourself?”

“Ah, no, my partner made everything. He owns a bakery in Old Town, on Old Bakery Street, ironically.”

“Ooh, what’s it called?”

“Dough & Joe.”

She gasps. “That’s so cute!”

Nicky smiles and nods. “His name is Joe, and he also sells coffee.”

“Shut up! Okay, I’m sending a department-wide email now so everyone knows to go there. Enjoy the rest of the day!” she says, waving as she heads back to her desk to, presumably, write that email.

Nicky walks to the bus stop just outside the building and waits for his bus. He almost gets on the wrong one, since so many use this line, but he catches himself in time, nerves settling a bit once he’s seated. The ride isn’t too long, only 25 minutes or so, just enough time to answer a few emails on his phone. He smiles when he sees that Ylenia has indeed sent a department-wide email thanking Nicky for bringing in today’s goodies and extolling the virtues of Joe’s bakery as the source. She’s even included a link to Joe’s website, a picture of the exterior, and a link with directions. 

There are a bunch of replies telling Nicky what a lucky man he is to have Joe as a partner (he knows) as well as promises to stop by the bakery sometime. Nicky sends his own reply thanking everyone, especially Ylenia, and adding his own praise for Joe. Which leads to daydreaming about Joe. Which leads to Nicky almost missing his stop.

He curses and hits the “stop” button on the bus just in time to make his stop. Nicky had gotten nervous about the bus route before school started, so Joe had held his hand and walked with him to the bus stop by their apartment and back three times to make sure Nicky felt comfortable getting there and back. Nicky had felt a little foolish — he’s a grown-ass man, he didn’t need Joe literally holding his hand just to take public transport — but Joe just squeezed his hand tighter when he said as much.

“Of course you don’t  _ need _ me, but I’ve always found that having someone with me helps calm that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I’ve moved to a new place and am trying to set my new routine,” Joe said. 

And that — fuck, Joe was right, that was exactly it. That was the feeling, the not-quite-right that had been popping up here and there since Nicky had moved. It happened in the grocery when the food labels weren’t the same and their locations were all backwards, at the pharmacy when the medicines were different, at the pub when his favorite beer wasn’t on tap anymore, and now trying to work out the public transport. 

It would get better, Nicky knew, but for now...for now, he has Joe to help him along.

“You’re right, it does help. Thank you,” Nicky said, raising their entwined hands so he could kiss the back of Joe’s hand.

The memory makes Nicky smile as he walks the almost-familiar route back to their flat. Joe’s still working, so Nicky drops off the empty tin and his messenger back in the flat and heads downstairs to the bakery to talk to Joe, tell him how his first day went. He can’t wait to see his gorgeous face.

Shouts of “Surprise!!” echo through the bakery when Nicky walks through the door. He lets out a surprised “aah!” and steps back before he realizes what’s happening: Nile, Lykon, Booker, Joe, and his Nonna are all in the bakery, and there’s a laptop sitting on the counter facing him so he can see Quynh and Andy on the screen. There are balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling and a banner that reads “You Made It!” There’s also an incredible-looking cake sitting next to the laptop.

Nicky smiles as a wave of happiness washes over him. He finds Joe and mouths “thank you” at him before he’s engulfed in a giant group hug. Joe’s standing a little in front of the counter, laptop in hand so Andy and Quynh have a better view. 

“Come cut the cake,” his Nonna instructs. “Joe baked it special for you, and it looks delicious, I want a slice.”

Nicky laughs and kisses his Nonna on the cheek before heading over to Joe so he can do the same. Joe laughs when he hears a tinny “you two are  _ gross _ ” from Andy through the speakers. Nicky just makes a rude hand gesture and kisses Joe on the mouth, to Quynh’s cackling delight.

“Nicolò, please, the cake! Look, it’s  _ chocolate ganache! _ ” Nonna Agnese whines.

Nicky snorts against Joe’s lips, which makes him laugh as he breaks the kiss. 

“Yeah, Nicky, it’s chocolate ganache. Stop wasting time already,” Joe teases.

Nicky rolls his eyes and looks down at the cake. It really is gorgeous. The piping is amazing, the frosting rich and thick, and Joe’s even written out a message on the cake:

“Congratulations On Your Face,” Nicky reads aloud. He blinks as everyone laughs, and then his brain catches up to what he just said. He looks back down at the cake. Yep, that’s what it says. He tries to look at Joe with the most unimpressed face he can, but he knows the effect is somewhat ruined because he’s trying not to laugh.

God, he loves this man.

Joe sees right through him and is positively beaming. “It  _ is _ a very good face, Nicky, you have to admit!”

“What was it supposed to say?” Nicky asks, not trying to hold back his smile any longer.

“‘Congratulations On Your First Day,’ but I messed up and put an ‘A’ instead of an ‘I’ after the ‘F,’ so I just went with it because I didn’t have time to redecorate it or bake a new cake,” Joe confesses.

Nicky laughs and hands his Nonna a knife so she can cut the cake, ignoring her sighed “finally.” He takes the laptop out of Joe’s hands and sets it on the counter so he can pull Joe close and wrap his arms around him.

“Thank you,” Nicky tells him after a kiss or three. “I love it, it’s perfect.”

And it is. It is.

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with this world and these characters while writing this, and I think there are more stories to tell. I'm considering turning this into a series, if people think they'd be interested. I'm not trying to fish for compliments, I'm genuinely curious to hear if people want more of these two in this AU world!


End file.
